The Eye of the Needle
by Jasmine2009
Summary: What do you do when you've chased a cold blooded murderer into the mountains, but instead of capturing him, the unthinkable happens?
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Eye of the Needle

Author: Jasmine2009 (AKA Jasmine)

Post Date: 10/1/2016

Original Date of Story: May 22, 2013

Warning: None

Rating: K+

Universe: NCIS Season 6

Summary: What do you do when you've chased a cold blooded murderer into the mountains, but instead of capturing him, the unthinkable happens?

Chapter 1

A single nod from Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva cautiously down the trail. The sun was low on the horizon and the orange hue of dusk was settling over the forest of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Soon, the canopy of trees would further darken the path, meaning time was of the essence. After three hours of tracking, they were close…very close…

For two days, they had been in hot pursuit of a murderer, and every time they thought they had him, he vanished. Just up and disappeared—without a trace. The first time it happened, Gibbs was irritated; the second time, he became silent; and the third? Well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. He had barked at McGee, glared at Ziva, and head slapped DiNozzo three times! Even Ziva thought the last one was borderline excessive, and definitely too hard, but maybe not totally unwarranted as the team had to listen to yet another story of how he wasn't able to garner any sympathy from having the plague seeing as it left behind no physical evidence. She felt sorry for her partner as he rubbed the back of his head wondering what he'd done to deserve such a hard slap.

But now they had the scum ball, the scent of victory was in the air. He had left the city and headed straight for the hills, and NCIS was hot on his heels. Barring some miracle, Fuzz Duncane was as good as caught, and the team knew it. Maybe even Fuzz knew it. Maybe.

Gibbs ticked his head in the other direction, sending McGee off to the left to thrash his way through overgrown brush. Early spring was the worst time of year to traverse a forest, much less the famed Appalachian Trail. New growth grew faster than the wildlife could eat it down, and treacherous terrain was often hidden under saplings and sinuous ivy and vines, most of which looked poisonous. McGee moved cautiously, believing every leaf to be a member of the dreaded Toxicodendron genus. He half wished Gibbs had sent him up the trail and let Ziva and Tony fight their way through the brush, but that thought never fully developed because he caught his ankle on a vine and fell flat on his face. He laid there a moment before realizing that the forest floor was soften than he would have thought. He popped his head up to see Gibbs staring at him, half worried, half annoyed. McGee gave him the thumbs up signal and pushed himself off the ground, brushed off the debris and continued fighting his way down the mountain.

The trail forked and Ziva and Tony exchanged looks. Sound traveled out here so even a whisper could be heard several hundred yards away. Tony gestured with his hand and Ziva nodded. They split up; she followed the narrow path south while her partner went north up the mountain. She moved stealth like over the rugged terrain, her eyes oscillating, her ears open.

Tony regretted his path the moment he took it. The trail narrowed and the trees gave way to boulders embedded into the side of the mountain, and the rocks jutted up from the ground like shark teeth daring anyone not to trip. Just getting any footing was difficult and he had to lean into the bedrock just to keep his balance. One wrong step could send him over the edge, which looked to be only a three or four foot drop, but looks could be deceiving out here in no-man's land, and he didn't want to find out the hard way just how far a drop it was. He paused long enough to catch his breath and survey his position before continuing his search for the very elusive Fuzz Duncane.

Gibbs knew his team had their fugitive; the man was as good as caught. The only problem was that Duncane had managed to lead his team deep into the woods. The former parking-lot attendant turned murderer hadn't been very good at hiding his tracks, and he wasn't in very good physical condition either thanks to being a desk jockey the past few years, but he had so far managed to elude his pursuers while guiding them further and further away from civilization.

McGee could barely make out Gibbs. Tim tried to stay parallel to him while fighting back the underbrush and avoiding getting tripped up again, all the while staying on the lookout for Duncane, who could easily double back and get behind them, thus escaping once again. He wasn't going to allow that. As he yanked his shoe out of a cluster of creepers, he envied Ziva and Tony, who at least had a trail to walk on.

The path had narrowed for Ziva, too, but it was still relatively clear. She estimated they had maybe thirty minutes before the sun would completely set, and then the cold night air would shroud them like a wet blanket. She was thankful she wasn't currently feeling the cool temperatures yet as the thrill of the capture had her adrenaline rushing. The hairs on the back of her neck raised, and she reached for her weapon at the strange feeling. She knew she was closing in.

Tony stopped, and listened. A sound caught his ear and he tilted his head. There was something up ahead. He pulled his Sig and crept slowly around the rocks, carefully placing his feet as he went. Whoever lay ahead was making muffled sounds, and it was either Duncane or someone else; either way, both scenarios had his senses on high alert and his adrenaline pumping. He slowly peeked around a boulder.

And there he was: Fuzz Duncane, up ahead about forty feet in a small clearing. He wasn't doing anything but standing, staring across a small stream, and talking to himself. Perhaps he was trying to decide if he should cross it now, or wait. He looked exhausted from the last two days of running. This was always the worst time to confront a criminal because they were unpredictable. A trapped, desperate man was capable of most anything, and murder-suicide seemed to be a favorite final act among the wretched.

He took several slow and deliberate steps closer to his quarry, head tilted, gun raised, hands steady, and ready to shout out the pre-requisite announcement of his presence. He planted his feet, inhaled slowly, and yelled, "N.C.I.S. You're under—!"

"—TONY!"

Ziva's voice sliced across his words like a machete through ripe watermelon. He had no time to process the interruption because his ears were assaulted by a blood curdling scream just inches from his head, and then he felt the impact of the bullet. It came with such force that it whipped his body around, and he hit the ground hard as the hot searing metal imbedded itself into his shoulder. He felt nothing and had no time to register how bad it was because the weight of a full grown mountain lion had landed on top of him, thus beginning the fight of his life.

He fought back hard and instinctively, protecting his neck from the fangs that were singularly focused on penetrating his jugular and shaking the life out of him. The animal's breath was hot and rancid; one inch talons ripped at his skin as he grasped handfuls of fur and skin and held on. Using all his strength to protect himself from the wild beast intent on making him its next meal, he paid little attention to anything else.

Ziva rapid-fired three shots with all three hitting Duncane, killing him before he hit the ground. "Tony!" she shouted, turning her attention to the fierce fight just thirty feet away. Unable to get a clear shot at the animal, she sprinted towards it, cursing the vines and rocks that were tripping her up. She aimed her gun, but had about as much a chance at shooting her partner as she did the lion. Grabbing a stick, she began wielding it, striking the animal on its back, but her actions were having little effect.

And then Gibbs appeared, his jacket wide open and charging the animal, shouting and shooting his gun in the air. The lion jerked its head towards him, and then, in a single seven foot leap, jumped off its prey and vanished into the darkness.

Tony dropped his head back, out of breath and not yet feeling the wounds left behind.

"Tony!" Ziva said, throwing herself next to him on the ground. "Tony!" she repeated, for anything she might say other than his name would only serve to alarm him. She scanned his body trying to determine the extent of his injuries, but it was too dark to see anything clearly.

Gibbs followed the mountain lion a little ways just to make sure it had run off, and then checked the pulse on Fuzz Duncane. Dead. Turning his attention towards his agents, he hurried back and knelt down, "How is he?"

Ziva was applying pressure to the gunshot wound. "Not good," she whispered.

Out of breath, McGee raced towards them taking in the scene and piecing it together based on what he'd seen and heard. Still taking in Tony's condition, he asked, "Duncane dead, Boss?"

"Yeah. We gotta move," he said, staring at a particularly deep gash on his agent's neck. "That cat will return."

"My shoulder…" Tony grimaced. "I can't move it."

Kneeling down, McGee touched his shoulder and pulled back fingers red with blood. "You've been shot!"

"Yeah, McQuick! And it hurts!" Tony said through gritted teeth.

"You will be fine," Ziva soothed, sending McGee a sideways glance. "McGee!" she barked, getting his attention. "Give me some bandages."

Tim dropped his pack and started rummaging through it. "Here," he offered, handing over a pre-packaged sterilized gauze pad. Finding his flashlight, he clicked it on. "What happened?" he asked again.

She tore off the wrapper and pressed the gauze to his wound, "We spotted Duncane in the clearing. I could see Tony getting into position, so I moved in closer to provide backup, but when I did, I saw the cougar coming up over the rocks. That is when I yelled to Tony, but Duncane was able to get off a shot, catching Tony in the shoulder. When he went down, the animal attacked."

Tony lulled his head towards the body that lay not more than thirty feet away, and mumbled, "You got him, Ziva?"

She tried to smile, "Yes, I got him."

"That's good…," he whispered, squirming under her ministrations. "…That's good."

Gibbs pulled his phone out of his pocket. "McGee!"

"Yes, Boss?"

"You got any service out here?"

He already knew the answer without even checking, "No. We lost service a couple hours back."

"Damnit," he whispered, flipping his phone shut.

"But," McGee added, "it's intermittent. I noticed there were some places where we had it."

"Where?"

"The last place I remember having any bars was a couple miles back on that ridge."

Gibbs remembered the spot, probably two, two and a half miles back up the trail. Tony could make it; Duncane couldn't. He was going to be dinner for a whole host of critters, big and small, if they didn't do something with his body. He knelt down next to his senior agent and said, "Tony, we're going to get you out of here… hang in there."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"McGee, help me move Duncane's body."

Ziva watched them carry the body up the trail until even the beams of their flashlights disappeared. She returned her attention to her partner. "I have tied off your shoulder. There is no exit wound so the bullet is most likely still in there. How does that feel?"

"It feels like there's a bullet in my shoulder."

"We need to get these wounds cleaned out. I will be right back."

"Hey," he whispered, reaching his hand towards her.

"I will be right back, Tony. I am only going to the stream to wet this rag….I will not be far, nor will I be gone long."

Tony stared up at the night sky and tried to concentrate on the stars. The pain had begun permeating his body and he was having a difficult time just lying down. The ground was hard and the rocks were poking into his body, and no matter which way he turned or what position he took, he simply couldn't rid himself of the incessant pain. He was never going to make it if he didn't try and take his mind off his current problems. He could barely see the sky through the new leaves on the trees, but there were patches of clear, unobstructed views and he stared at the patterns of the stars, trying to count them.

"They are brighter here than in D.C.," she commented, stealing a glance upwards.

He wanted to think of something smart to say, but couldn't. Just swallowing was a challenge, much less forming words and pushing air through his vocal chords.

She gently washed the blood from his face, neck and arms. The slashes were deep and by the amount of blood, some were more than superficial. She bandaged what she could, using up the last of the gauze on several of the deeper punctures. She would have to be content with washing out the other wounds. "The water is cold," she said, passing the time and trying to put his mind at ease. The temperature was dropping, making the water not just cold, but down right icy. She could barely keep her hands in the stream to fill the water bottles.

"It feels good," he replied, suppressing a cough.

She wiped down his forehead and said, "You should drink something."

He shook his head.

"I have some clean bottled water—"

"—How bad?" Tony asked, his voice raspy.

She studied him a beat, sensing a real urgency in his tone. "Not too bad," she said, "I have seen worse at Mossad training camps."

"You're lying."

She wondered how he always knew. Considering they were miles into the Blue Ridge Mountain, and hours away from medical care, with few supplies and fewer supplements, she should tell him the truth. But she couldn't. Instead, she pressed the cold cloth against his forehead and stated, "We will be fine. You will be fine," she corrected. "But right now, I have to get you comfortable. I found a spot closer to the stream that would be better for you to lie on. Can you move?"

"Of course I can move. Haven't you ever seen me dance?"

She rolled her eyes, secretly grateful for the quip. With her help, he sat up. Then, he managed to stand, leaning heavily against the rock, waiting for the head rush to abate.

"Are you okay? Do you need to lie back down?

"No, I'm good." The truth was, he was glad to be off the rocks and sticks that were poking him in the back, but not so sure he could stay upright for any length of time. "Where's your mattress?"

"It is not quite a mattress, but it is better than what you were on." She wrapped her arm around him, hoping he would take most of his own weight.

"Does this constitute you taking me to bed?"

"It does not. I prefer my men not so… bloody."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She was pleased that he made it mostly on his own and leaned him up against a rock next to the stream while she retrieved the packs. A few minutes earlier, she had kicked away the twigs and branches to reveal a small area of moss that was lightly covered in pine needles. She helped him lie back down and his new bed felt a thousand times better than the old one. He noticed her looking down the path and rubbing her arms. "They'll be back soon," he whispered.

Caught, she reddened and replied, "I know that. I am wondering if I should build a fire."

He swiveled his head up and around. The air was chilly and getting colder by the hour. A fire wouldn't hurt and it would keep curious predators away. But more importantly, it would give her something to do; her worried expression was unnerving him. "Yeah, I think you should. I'm getting cold." He wasn't, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't have built one for herself.

That was all she needed to hear and she set about gathering stones, kindling and firewood while keeping an eye down the path for Gibbs and McGee, or any four legged creatures that decided to get curious.

***********************************8

"That should do it until we can come back for him," McGee said, admiring their handiwork even though it wasn't much. They had found a small alcove where two boulders had come to rest against each other. If they propped the body up and folded his legs underneath him like he was sitting, he would fit. Then, they rolled another larger rock over and blocked the opening, thus preventing Fuzz Duncane from becoming a meal to the many hungry predators of the night.

It was more than he deserved considering the way he had murdered Petty Officer Patricia Neal, and Gibbs would have just as soon leave him out in the open to be eaten, but Fuzz Duncane had served his country a decade ago and so deserved some respect.

"How far are we from that ridge?"

McGee looked around. The night was black, but between the stars and the moon, he could see the outline of the mountains around him. "Not too far. I think the ridge is just over that peak there."

"C'mon."

"But that's still a couple miles away."

Gibbs glared, but not the usual glare that displayed annoyance. It was more like a glare from a man who knew something the other man didn't.

"…Which is irrelevant," Tim added. "I'm right behind you, Boss."

It took almost an hour, but with Gibbs setting the pace, it was easy to make good time. Once there, the moon illuminated the ridge. "Do you have a signal?"

McGee shook his head, and started the usual task of walking around while waving his cell phone over his head trying to snatch a wave from the sky.

"Got one, Boss!"

"Can you call out?"

"I can try."

"Call the Ranger's Station. Tell them where we are and that we need a medevac for an injured agent."

McGee speed dialed and listened intently, covering his good ear from noise that didn't exist. After six rings, someone picked up.

"Rangers' Office."

"Ted? This is Agent McGee—"

"—Where the hell are you? I've been trying to call you the past four hours!"

"We've been tracking Duncane—"

"—Did you find him?"

"Yeah, but we need a medical transport for an injured agent."

He could hear the ranger's frustration through the line. "That's why I've been trying to call you!" Ranger Ted Sparks bellowed. "There's a weather system approaching from the southwest that's pretty severe. It's already spawned 13 tornadoes and is dumping hail and rain at a rate of two inches per hour with lots of lightning! We're grounded!"

"You can't be grounded! We have an agent who's been shot and needs immediate medical attention!"

"I'm sorry, Agent McGee, but I've been given the word that—"

Gibbs snatched the phone and said, "Ranger Sparks, this is Special Agent Gibbs. When is the weather going to hit?"

"Later tonight."

"We left Agents DiNozzo and David near a stream about a klick from where Indian Trail forks. Can you get a helicopter there before the weather becomes a problem?"

"I'm familiar with that area, but it's full of rocks and trees. There's no place to land a bird even if we could take off."

"What do you recommend we do!" Gibbs yelled into the phone. "I have an agent who's been shot. On top of a bullet in him, he was mauled by a mountain lion. I need to get him off this range and to a hospital!"

There was no reply on the other end, but Gibbs could hear him speaking to someone. After waiting a full minute, Sparks returned to the phone and said, "Agent Gibbs, I just finished talking to the pilot and he said he'll do it, but he can't get to your man at your current location. You're going to have to move him to a place where Jake can land his chopper. There are two places: the first is a small ridge about three miles east of the stream, and the second is a clearing about four miles north."

"I'm at that ridge now, but my man isn't. We can have him here in about five hours."

"You'll have to do in four, and that's provided the system doesn't pick up speed coming across the Midwestern plains."

"We'll be here."

"Agent Gibbs! If you're not there at precisely 0100 hours, you're on your own."

Gibbs didn't reply for it was anyone's guess if he even heard that last part. He handed the phone back to McGee and had already started down the ridge.

****************************************8

The fire flickered gently and Ziva warmed her hands. Tony lay in the soft needles thinking about anything but his current condition. He was cold and hot all at once and he shivered in the cool night air. God only knows what bacteria were on the cat's claws that were now coursing their way through his body. And that was just from the attack, his shoulder was a whole other type of pain. Whenever he tried to change positions, it felt like a hot iron was being slowly pulled through it. As a result, he moved very little, something Ziva didn't seem to like.

"You have to keep the circulation going through your body. Can you roll onto your side?"

"I don't want to be on my side. It hurts."

"Well then, how about you lift your legs and I'll put my pack underneath them."

He did as he was told and had to admit that propping up his legs made the strain on his back go away.

"You must be feeling better."

He turned his head towards her, watching her moves. She was down on her haunches, rubbing her hands near the fire. "Why do you say that?"

"Because your voice sounds better," she said softly.

Maybe he wasn't as bad off as he thought. In fact, he even went so far as to think that he might be feeling better. Her words encouraged him and he said, "I think I'll take some water now."

She took the bottle out and opened it and helped him take a couple of sips. Her expression changed back to concern when she felt the heat of his skin. "You are hot."

"Yes, so I've been told. You're not half bad yourself."

"I mean your body temperature."

"Oh."

She studied him a beat. Humor was a good sign, but with Tony, it could also be a bad thing. Worse than a bullet wound was a fever; it could do more harm than the actual bullet. "I'll be right back," she said.

He wanted to object, but she was gone before he could. Besides, he might have been feeling better, but he certainly wasn't equipped with the energy needed to trek out of there. He was slowly being overcome by fatigue, and he let his arm drop to the ground. He closed his eyes and drifted to a place that was far more to his liking: the beach. The heat from the sun seemed to be making his body feel better and, of course, the scenery was always his number one reason for choosing that destination. But then the freezing cold temperature of the water splashed on his face and he jerked awake.

"I am sorry, but we have to keep your fever down," she said, although she didn't look that sorry. She had soaked several rags in the stream and laid them strategically on his forehead, neck, and wrists. He didn't object because they actually felt good. What didn't feel too good was her cleaning his wounds and checking his bandages.

"Do you have to do this again?"

"Yes."

"Well the least you can do is be a little gentler."

"I did not know you liked it gentle."

He smiled at her. It was rare that she played with him on his terms and no bullet or a few scratches were going to make him pass up the opportunity for some verbal foreplay. "I do, sometimes. How about you? How do you like it?"

She leaned in closer and whispered, "I like it all kinds of different ways."

The fire twinkled in her eyes and he felt his stomach flutter.

"Maybe when this is over—" she cut off her own words when she heard the rustling in the leaves. Quickly pulling her gun, she pivoted around, scanning the clearing for anything that was moving. When she spied it, she reached for her flashlight, readied her gun and clicked the bright beam on.

Across the clearing were eight sets of eyes peering at her, frozen by the light. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw what they were and lowered her light. "It is nothing to worry about. It is only a black cat and her kittens."

Tony twisted his head so he could see better. When his eyes adjusted and he actually registered what he was looking at, he quietly said, "Ah, Ziva. Those aren't cats… they're skunks."

She shined the light back at them. She had never seen a real skunk before and it was hard to make out its features behind the brush, but she could definitely see the white strip now that she was looking for it. "What should we do?"

"Whatever you do, don't shoot them."

"I have no intention of shooting a mother skunk or her babies. How do we get rid of them?"

"We don't. The fire is between us, so if we let them, they'll continue on their way. Just don't stop them, or scare them."

Sure enough, after the mammals regained their eyesight, they ambled off. The mother waddled in front, and the three babies huddled close behind. But the earlier moment had been lost and Tony wasn't looking too good any more.

"You want some more water?"

He shook his head once, reserving what energy he had.

She sat down in the moss beside him and wrapped her arms around her legs. "You rest now. You are going to need your strength."

His eyes slowly closed and he lulled his head slightly to one side.

She scanned the woods, looking for anything that moved. She turned her back to both Tony and the fire, knowing that any animal hoping for a meal would come from behind. She waited anxiously for Gibbs and McGee to return.

*************************************8

McGee was barely keeping pace. Once Gibbs had handed him the phone, he had already started down the ridge. Between the wide path and the moonlight, Tim didn't need to use his flashlight, but he had to admit that he wasn't nearly in as good physical shape as his boss, and now, huffing and puffing, he thought he should do something about that. When this was over, he was hitting the gym. It wasn't his first choice of how to spend his spare time, but he was the weak link whenever the team went into the field, and he knew it. He had been so intent on this new idea that he practically ran into the back Gibbs, not realizing he had pulled up to a stop.

"What's up?" he sputtered.

"Shhh."

When Gibbs crouched down, so too did McGee.

"Wait here."

He'd get no argument on that request. Tim sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree and caught his breath. It was hard to imagine that in a few hours, the weather was going to drastically change. They had to get off this mountain before that time or they were all going to be in trouble. He took a moment to think about his colleague: being shot, and then being jumped on by a mountain lion… he could only imagine what that must have been like, and even now, hours after it had happened, he felt a shiver pass over him.

"McGee!"

Hearing the harsh whisper of his name shocked him back to reality. "Yeah!"

"Keep your voice down. We have company."

"What? What kind?" he said, thinking about the big cat…or a bear!

"Follow me and don't make a sound."

McGee did as he was told and followed his boss. Unfortunately, Gibbs left the path so making progress was slow, but relatively quiet since they were climbing over large rounded boulders. After a few minutes, McGee began to hear voices. His first instinct was to feel relief; perhaps they had stumbled onto some hikers who could help. But taking a cue from his boss, he suppressed his initial elation and just observed. Gibbs signaled with his finger, and they inched their way to the top of the rock. Looking down, they could see three men huddled around a small fire.

McGee blinked, hoping it would clear up his initial confusion for he had just hidden Fuzz Duncane's body and yet here he was staring at someone who looked just like him. But the man couldn't be Fuzz. The only person he could be is Fuzz's older brother, Terrance Duncane. They looked exactly alike only Terrence was bigger, much bigger. Their investigation into Fuzz Duncane unveiled his sibling, and they shared quite a history of crime together, mostly petty and ill-conceived misdemeanors, but crimes all the same. He lived around these parts and made the mountain his home. He didn't recognize the other two men, but they were just as big, and they wore the rugged hats and the same plaid shirts, only in different colors. Even in the darkness of night, there appeared to be a slight familial resemblance among them all.

Gibbs and McGee lay silently on the rock eaves-dropping the conversation below.

"I thought you said he was gonna meet us here," the man in the red plaid shirt said.

"He is, but he don't know these woods like I do, so it might take him a bit longer."

"I'm telling you, I heard gun shots a couple hours ago when I was on the West Ridge over there," the man in the blue plaid shirt said.

"You heard hunters," Terrance mumbled, tired of hearing the same story again from his cousin.

"Those shots didn't sound like rifles. They sounded like pistols."

"What's the last thing he said to you?" red plaid shirt asked.

Terrance remembered the last conversation he'd had with his brother. Fuzz was being chased by NCIS federal agents and they were relentless. He hadn't eaten in two days and hadn't slept in three. "He said he wanted to kill himself a Fed named Gibbs. Said the bastard was tracking him like a damn dog."

"Where'd he say he was gonna meet us?"

"Right here. We've been here before and he likes this spot."

"You don't s'pose they got 'im, do ya?"

"Nah," Terrence said. "He's too smart to get picked up by some Navy Feds."

"The weather's s'pose to get bad later on," red shirt commented. "He'd better show soon."

Terrance looked up at the clear night sky. "They always get it wrong, Tagg. They always saying the weather's gonna be worse than it really is. Fuzz and me, we been out here during one of them so-called storms and we survived it. You just gotta know where the low spots are and avoid 'em."

Gibbs ticked his head, and he and Tim silently inched backwards off the rock. Un-expectantly, Gibbs veered off the path and McGee once again found himself in the thick of vines and overgrown brush. His hands were all scratched from thorny bushes, and he felt himself getting annoyed. Then he thought about his colleague. Considering what Tony was dealing with, he almost felt guilty for worrying about the dreaded three leaf ivy plant or the scratches he was getting from the barbed vines, but he couldn't help himself. He pulled his hands up inside his jacket sleeve and followed as close behind his boss as he could.

Ziva heard heavy breathing before she saw anyone, and pulled her weapon. The fire had died down but the moon was still bright, except for when the occasional dark cloud passed in front of it. She crouched down next to Tony and waited. Even though Gibbs came into the clearing first, it was McGee who she heard. He was spent, and he leaned over catching his breath.

Gibbs asked, "How is he?"

"He is running a fever. And he needs a doctor."

Gibbs handed McGee a bottle of water and kicked dirt over the fire. "We're moving out. We have to make it to the ridge in less than three hours."

Ziva remembered the ridge and felt a twang of relief. She said, "That should not be too difficult."

McGee dabbed the sweat off his brow and said, "It wouldn't be under normal circumstances. But we're racing against bad weather and Terrance Duncane."

"Who?"

"Terrance Duncane, Fuzz's older brother. He and two of his buddies are camped between us and that ridge."

"What did you do with the body?"

"It's tucked into a small crevasse between rocks. It should be fine until we can send someone in for it."

"How are we going to move Tony?"

McGee was glad Ziva asked the question, and waited nervously for an answer. Instead, what he got was his backpack thrown at him. He caught it and then watched his boss approach the prone man.

Crouching down, Gibbs placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Tony?" Feeling the heat emanating from his body, he shook him gently and repeated, "Tony?"

His eyes fluttered open and he nodded, "Yeah, Boss."

"We gotta move."

"Okay," he answered, but it was evident he wasn't quite sure how to go about it.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah." He answered quickly, forcing the fatigue away. "I just need…just need some help getting up."

Between Ziva and Gibbs, they were able to get him upright, and then to a standing position. He looked surprisingly good given the circumstances. "Where're we going?"

"A couple ridges over. Can you walk on your own?"

Tony took several steps and nodded, "I think so." And then he walked towards a boulder. Once there he leaned heavily against it. "Yeah, I can do it."

"You're gonna have to go faster than that," Gibbs mumbled.

Tony forced a nod, "Got it, Boss."

Ziva filled several empty bottles with water and came up behind him. "I have water if you need it. Do not wait until you fall over to ask for it, okay?"

He looked sideways at her. She seemed a bit curt in her delivery, like she knew something he didn't, but he barely had the energy to start down the path on his own let alone confront her, so he pushed off the rock and followed, while McGee brought up the rear.

Tony tried his best to keep up. Gibbs set a pace that would have been manageable under normal conditions, but not quite so easy for a man with a bullet in him. He didn't want to slow down, but his legs were numb and he was having trouble catching his breath.

From behind, McGee watched him sway. Tim had actually been impressed with how well he was doing, he seemed to be keeping up and holding his own. He was more impressed with the amount of terrain they were covering and thinking that they just might make it to that ridge on time. But just as he was thinking that, he noticed Tony's head lull back and his legs become jelly. Having already sensed something was wrong, Tim hastened his pace and was glad he did because he caught him just as he was going down.

"Take it easy," McGee soothed. "I gotcha."

Tony felt strong hands holding him up. He leaned heavily into the body that had him, thankful that someone was there, but more thankful he didn't have to take another step. "I can't go on…" he whispered.

"I know, I'm just going to lower you to the ground." With little help from Tony, Tim struggled to lay him down gently, not knowing where the gashes and gouges were to avoid. He then placed his backpack under his legs, hoping to aid the flow of blood back to his heart.

Ziva was by his side, wet rag already in hand and wiping down his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he breathed, still catching his breath.

Gibbs studied him. It was going to be a problem making the ridge if Tony needed to stop, or worse, couldn't walk it himself. "DiNozzo, we don't have time for this."

Tony widened his eyes, hearing the tone that gave him pause. It was the same tone his father used on him many moons ago, and it meant business. The only problem was, he wasn't fooling around. He genuinely needed to rest.

"Sorry, Boss," he said, trying to decide which was worse: his father's chastisement or Gibbs'. "I'll be okay. Just…just need a short break."

"Drink something," Ziva said, lifting his head so he could get some water.

He did as he was told, but the water didn't go down too well and he coughed it up. "Just give me a minute. I'll be fine…" he breathed.

Gibbs shook his head; there weren't any minutes to give him.

McGee reached under his shoulders and began to lift him up, "You'll have to take your minute on the trail, Tony. We have a bird to catch."

With Ziva's help, they got him back on his feet and moving. McGee stayed closer to him this time and steadied him when the terrain got rocky and he struggled with keeping his balance. Gibbs watched his team, and worried. There were only a few moments where Tony seemed to be better and didn't appear to need much help, but he pressed his arm closely to his chest, and he was stiffer than when they'd first started out.

On more than a one occasion, Tim actually caught him just before he went down. He would lean heavily on Tim a minute, resting, and then start off again. McGee had to give him credit. He was doing much better than he'd imagined. Hell, if the tables had been turned, he was positive they'd be carrying him out, but Tony was in good physical shape and had endurance, and that's what was keeping him going.

Gibbs pulled up and crouched low on his haunches. Ziva came from behind, "What is it?"

"We're getting close to Duncane's camp." He paused long enough to look back. His expression said it all.

"Gibbs, he is doing the best he can," Ziva said, hoping it didn't sound as curt to him as it did to her.

But it must have because he glared at her. 'The best he can' wasn't good enough to keep his team alive. The clouds were rolling in, offering them cover of darkness, but time was running out. At the rate they were moving, they weren't going to make it to the ridge in time, and if they missed that, then what? They'd have to find shelter and wait out the storm all the while keeping Tony alive; equally unpleasant prospects.

Tony dropped down next to a tree, panting hard.

McGee held onto his jacket, making sure he didn't fall forward, and then leaned him back against it. Satisfied he was supported, he moved up. "What's up, Boss?"

"How is he?"

"Tired. We must be getting close to where Duncane is."

"Yeah," Gibbs answered, his mind a speedway of thoughts.

"I gotta lay down…" Tony mumbled, fighting the nausea.

McGee backed away and realized that Tony didn't have the strength to move himself. Grabbing his jacket, he slid him sideways and then held his head and let gravity take him down to the ground. Tim pushed his pack under his legs again and tried to clear some rocks and debris that were making up his mattress. But moving him was tedious. When touching him, Tim had to choose between the side with a bullet or the side with the deep claw wounds and gashes. Both injuries didn't like to be messed with and they definitely didn't like the fabric or the dirt being rubbed against them.

Gibbs studied his agent, immediately noticing his pale complexion when the moon shone through the clouds. A red flag went up in Gibbs' head and he inched forward, shining his flashlight on Tony. All three saw the problem at the same time. His chest was covered in blood. His shirt and jacket were glistening from it.

Shocked by what she saw, Ziva whispered, "Tony! You're bleeding again." She peeled back the bandage to get a better look at the wound. It was hot, and ugly. And Tony was sweating. She tore off a piece of his shirt and rolled it into a thick pad, applying pressure to the hole.

"Hey!" he gasped, feeling like the bullet had been turned into a hot molten piece of coal.

"Keep your voice down," she admonished. "There are some men around here who would like nothing more than to see us dead, and we do not want them finding us."

Finally, something other than his pain to focus on…his head cleared just long enough to ask, "Who?"

"Fuzz Duncane's brother," McGee answered. "They're camped up the trail a ways and you know as well as anyone that sound travels out here."

"They?" he asked. He may have a fever, but he still caught little nuances. "Who's with him?"

She shook her head, "We do not know. Two other men."

Gibbs sensed something was nearby, and turned around to look. He'd only used his flashlight minimally, and he desperately wanted to click it on, but he couldn't risk it. It was McGee who confirmed his gut.

"Do you hear that?"

Ziva pulled her weapon as Gibbs brought up his gun, ready to shoot if necessary. But they never saw anything. Instead, they heard a low guttural growl, and just as their brains were registering the source, their ears were assaulted by a blood curdling scream. It took every ounce of power Ziva had not to empty her magazine, but she held steady, along with her boss and McGee, waiting and aiming their weapons into the blackness around them.

The mountain lion had returned.

 **NOTE: Please let me know what you think. I have much of the story written, but it's taken awhile to ensure the time sequence makes sense. Shouldn't be too many plot holes with this one, but if you find something, let me know. If you comment, thank you for taking the time! ~~Jasmine**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

All three had their guns drawn, but finding their target was impossible. The fast moving cumulus clouds were making visibility next to nothing. The moon only peeked out for ten or fifteen seconds before it disappeared behind dark billowy patches.

"It smells blood," Gibbs said, scanning the forest.

"Great," McGee mumbled. "Duncane in front of us, a mountain lion next to us, and a monster storm behind us."

"You forgot about me, Probie."

"No, I didn't," he looked down at the prone man and watched as Ziva worked on his injuries. "I just didn't want to point that out."

"Don't give up just yet, McGee," Gibbs said.

"I'm not giving up, Boss. I'd just rather not have so many obstacles in our way."

"Tony?" Gibbs said, still scanning the trail behind them. "We gotta move."

Ziva was almost finished with her makeshift bandage and said, "This will hold until we get to the ridge. Can you get up?"

Gibbs stepped aside and watched. Ziva and McGee pulled and lifted Tony back on his feet. As unsteady as he was, he was trying his best to do his part. Ziva walked in front of him, just far enough ahead to catch him if he fell forward, and McGee walked behind him with a fistful of jacket, ready to catch him when he went down. As Gibbs watched, he quickly realized something; McGee was right. There were too many obstacles in their way to make it to the ridge on time. He pondered his options, none of which had a desirable outcome. He watched as much as he could. "Hey!" he whispered harshly, getting Ziva and Tim's sudden attention.

Tony didn't want to stop. He didn't have an 'Off' button like they did. He had already used much of his energy just trying to stand, and now that he was actually putting one foot in front of the other, he needed to keep his momentum going. He lulled his head back, not seeing the clouds as they rolled quickly by.

"What is it, Boss?" McGee said, scanning the blackness.

Reluctantly, Gibbs stated, "We're not going to make it."

With those words, Tony sunk to his knees. He just needed to lie back down again. He always felt better when he was lying down.

"Hang on, Buddy," McGee whispered, grabbing his jacket and with Ziva's help, kept him upright. Gibbs circled back around Tony and said, "We're not gonna make that ridge in the next two hours."

"We have to," Ziva said. "That is our ride out of here."

"In his condition, we'll never get by Duncane unnoticed. Our only option is to go around them." He scanned the forest, looking for a path into the woods. "C'mon."

Ziva and McGee were confused. If they weren't going to make the ridge then what exactly were they going to do? Watching their boss nearly disappear, they quickly got Tony back up and moving, unfortunately, the path Gibbs chose was anything but clear. Tony walked gradually, deliberately, knowing he was slowing everyone down, but any faster, and he was going to nose plant himself into the side of the mountain. The trees were a Godsend to both McGee and Tony, and whether Gibbs deliberately passed by large ones or he was simply following an animal trail, the trees provided that brief moment of respite that both men desperately needed.

"You doing okay?" McGee whispered.

Tony nodded, taking an extra minute to catch his breath. With his arm draped over McGee's shoulder, he pushed off the mammoth trunk and they continued following their team leader.

Things were going along pretty well, and Gibbs thought if they could keep this up, they would get around Duncane and his cronies in less time than he figured, assuming they had remained in the same place. He calculated that they were probably nearing their camp, which means it was becoming paramount to keep the noise level at a minimal. He had to give his senior agent credit, though. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that he was doing his best to keep up. As long as he had McGee, and those trees, he didn't seem any more out of breath than the others. Gibbs pulled up to a stop and crouched down. It was McGee who was breathing hard, understandable given he's carrying the added weight of his colleague.

"Take a minute," he whispered. They were actually following a deer trail, which was only wide enough for one person, but at least it was a path through the dense undergrowth. When Gibbs looked to the west, the clouds were low and patchy. If they could get around Duncane, and if they could make it to a large rock formation that he remembered seeing, they could wait out the storm. He studied Tony, who was leaning against a giant oak tree. Seeing the sweat glistening off his face and neck, he thought those were a lot of 'ifs' in his condition.

"Tony," McGee whispered. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Cuz I won't get back up," he said, almost resigned.

"I'll help you." McGee unfolded his arm from around his shoulder and let him sink to the ground. Ziva did her best to guide him as well and they eventually got him lying down. At least there weren't any rocks and limbs to clear away. He was pretty much on a bed of leaves and moss.

Tony immediately felt better. He just had to be lying down and he was amazed at how much better he felt. But he was ready to sleep, that's how tired he was.

McGee and Ziva skulked over to their boss once they realized Tony had nodded off. "You got a plan?" Ziva said.

"We're not gonna make it to the ridge, but we can make it to a rock formation amount a mile from here."

"I remember it," McGee said. "It's big enough for all of us."

"Let's just hope Duncane and his goons don't want to use it too."

Ziva and McGee gave each other a look. That would not be a good situation at all. They realized that Gibbs was on his way again so they crept back to their colleague. "Tony? You gotta wake up, we're moving out."

He was so comfortable that he didn't want to move but they were being insistent and the next thing he knew he was being pulled to his feet. He didn't protest because that's about the only way he was going to get up.

McGee went to wrap his arm around him when Tony shook his head. "I can make it, Probie."

Silently thankful, they pointed him in the right direction and he began walking, taking it one step at a time towards the nearest tree. Slow and steady. Inside his head he only concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He counted each step, leaned on a tree, and then counted again. The system kept his mind off his fatigue.

They all thought they were doing well until the unthinkable happened. Tony stumbled, and his jacket pulled out of McGee's grasp, resulting in him actually falling and making enough noise to silence everything within a mile radius.

"Arggh!" he gritted, realizing he'd slipped off the path and into a shallow ditch. He was in so much pain that he was barely aware of Ziva and McGee at his side. Only when he felt the cold rag pressed against his mouth did he open his eyes, trying to see why he was being suffocated.

"Tony!" came the terse whisper. "Shut up!"

All he could feel was the beating of his heart and the incessant throbbing of his arm. His vision was blurry, and at times, nonexistent, and he couldn't breathe. He pulled at her arm, willing her to remove the rag, but she wasn't having any of it. Finally, she let up and he was able to tilt his head and gasp for air. Too weak to do anything but think about each breath, he closed his eyes again, concentrating hard on controlling the agony that wanted to escape.

Gibbs looked down on his three agents from the path. Tony had fallen about four feet. It wasn't the best strategic location to rest, but there was no way they were getting him up and moving any time soon. As he crouched down thinking, he wondered if Terrence Duncane had heard the commotion. "Try and keep him quiet. I'll be back."

Before Ziva or McGee could protest, he had disappeared.

Ziva checked his bandage and was surprised yet pleased that it was holding. She had packed the bullet hole with fabric and that had seemed to staunch the flow of blood. But he was pale, even in the dim sporadic light of the moon, she could see his features: jaws clenched, eyes closed, chest heaving. He needed a doctor.

"He's going to be okay," McGee said.

She looked at him, wondering how he knew. "You've been hanging around Gibbs too long," she whispered.

"I wouldn't be so quick with the compliments…you're not too difficult to read. You're worried about him, and so am I. And so is Gibbs. But he'll make it. Have you ever known Tony not to make it out of a bad situation?"

"I can hear you," Tony said, forcing each word from his mouth.

"Which is why you should not worry either," she said, softly. McGee was right about that. Tony could take the worst possible scenario and turn it into the best possible scenario without breaking a sweat. She knew in her mind that Tony had the constitution to make it, but she saw with her eyes his condition worsening. She wiped some dirt from his face and tried to hide her concerns from McGee.

***********************************8

"I swear the noise came from that direction," Tagg said.

Terrance Duncane was standing on some rocks looking over the valley. There wasn't much to see now that the moon spent most of its time behind fast moving dark clouds. By the smell of it, a storm was definitely rolling their way. But they had all heard the distinct cry of a man in pain, and it could only be his brother. No one else would be out on such a night, is what Terrance thought.

He yelled down to his two cousins, "We're gonna have to split up. If Fuzz's out there, he's hurt. Maybe stumbled on a rock.

"Why don't he call us?" blue-plaid-shirt said.

"'Cuz we don't got no reception out here, you idiot!" Terrence barked back.

"Well, I ain't splitting up. I don't know these woods like ya'all do, so I'm either staying right here, or going with one of you. Besides, that cry could have come from someone else, or someTHING else. He said he was being chased by some Feds. Maybe one of 'em is out there. I don't wanna kill no Fed, Terrence. That's trouble for life?"

Tagg grinned, "I sure wouldn't mind killin' myself a Fed. You know what that would do to my status?"

"If anyone's gonna kill a Fed, it's gonna be me," Terrence said while scanning the darkness.

Tagg, who was already wanted for murder in Maryland, looked from his brother to the top of the rocks where his cousin stood. It was uncanny how much Terrence looked like Fuzz, but then again, people often said it was uncanny how much he looked like Marcus. "We gonna sit around jawing all day, or we gonna find Fuzz? Terrence, we'll sweep around to the left of the ridge. You take the right. If he's out there, we'll find him."

Gibbs slid backwards off the rock. Their voices were as clear as if they were standing next to him instead of a valley away. He took a minute to think. What started as a half-hearted idea in his head a half hour ago blossomed into a full-fledged plan. He worked his way back to his team.

***************************************************8

"I do not like this plan," Ziva said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

McGee chimed in, "I'm with her. At least let ME act as the decoy." He ticked his head towards Tony, who was lying fifteen feet away, wrestling with his breathing. "He responds much better to you than he does to either of us."

Gibbs looked over McGee's shoulder at the downed agent. It was hard to acknowledge that Tony was not an active participant in his idea, but he wasn't and there was nothing anyone could do about it but come up with a way to keep everyone alive.

Ziva cut across his thoughts, "Since it is not likely that we are going to make the pick up, we should stay here. Find shelter."

"No," Gibbs said. "We're not high enough."

McGee nodded, "He's right. That gulch Tony's lying in could flood in a matter of minutes. If we can get to higher ground, we'll be safe all the way around, from armed criminals or hungry cats. But I think I should stay."

"You remember where that rock formation was?"

"But—"

"—It's not open for discussion, McGee!" Gibbs said. He checked his gun in the dim light. "What'd ya got?"

McGee reluctantly pulled his weapon and checked, "A full chamber."

"Ziver?"

She too reluctantly checked, "Almost full."

Gibbs dropped over the edge and felt gently around Tony's waist for his gun.

"I got it, Boss," McGee said walking over and holding out Tony's Sig. "I thought I'd rid him of any extra weight."

Gibbs took it and checked its contents. Satisfied, he gave it back to McGee and holstered his own. "I'm going to lead them back to the body, then I'll swing around and if I can make it through the storm, I'll meet you on the ridge."

"What about that mountain lion?" McGee asked.

Gibbs ignored the question, "Give me fifteen minutes and then start out. Don't stop until you get him to those rocks on high ground." He paused a minute, then turned his attention to Tony. His condition was gnawing at his insides. This entire ordeal had shades of Kelly and Shannon written all over it, and he swore he was never going back there again; it was too dark a place and impossible to crawl out of. Tony meant as much to him as his girls did and he wasn't about to lose him. Leaning over his agent, he said, "Tony?"

He barely got any reaction. Shaking him gently, he repeated, "Tony?"

This time, Tony's eyes fluttered open and he nodded, "Yeah, Boss…I'm good."

"You gotta help Ziva and McGee."

"Where…you…"

"I'll be right behind you. But don't stop and only take a break if you absolutely have to. Make sure you get McGee out of these woods."

The comment might have provoked Tim had he not known better. He knew the order was more about giving Tony a purpose than making Tim feel inadequate. Tony nodded and held out his hand. It was bloody and hot when Gibbs took it. "I'll see you in a couple of hours." And he was gone.

***************************************************8

McGee looked from Tony to Ziva and back again. His expression pretty much said it all.

"We can do this, McGee," Ziva whispered.

"Do we have a choice?"

"No, which is why we better get going."

It was no easy task getting Tony out of the gully, but they did and he was surprisingly good about it. He must have sensed the gravity of their situation because he put every ounce of energy he had into walking. Ziva led the way, Tony followed, and McGee kept hold of his jacket.

They were making good time when Ziva pulled to a stop. Tony hugged a tree and McGee whispered, "What is it?"

She cocked her head, listening. "Did you hear that?"

McGee didn't have to ask what; he knew. "How far away?"

She listened more intently, "Hard to tell. It has been following us since we stopped. It smells blood and it is not going to leave us alone."

McGee leaned into his injured friend. No cat alive was going to have any of them for a meal if he could help it. "Okay. From what I remember about hiking in mountain lion territory, they don't like it when you make a lot of noise."

She wanted to smack him, "But Duncane and his clowns would love it!"

"Right," McGee said, realizing that what might be a deterrent to one predator would actually be an attraction to another. "Well, about the only other thing we can do to mitigate our risk of being its next meal is to stand tall." After seeing her expression, he continued, "We don't have a lot of options here, Ziva. I remember that we were taught not to run, not to crouch and not to play dead. The only thing left to do is remain standing…IF it attacks."

"If that lion attacks again…" she shot Tony a glance, "it could be over."

"Then it can't attack," McGee said with an air of authority. "We walk together, all three of us, as close as we can get. The larger we appear the less likely it will want to take one of us on."

She gave him an appreciative nod. "Good plan." She felt the cool westerly breeze picking up and could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. "Let's go." She took Tony's arm and placed it on her shoulder. "Hold on to me. Can you do that?"

He nodded, trying to come up with something witty to say, but all he ended up saying was, "Yeah."

McGee came up behind Tony and held onto his jacket at his sides. When Tony took a step, he took a step. If anyone was watching them, they certainly would have provided an amusing site, but it was anything but amusing to him. He kept hearing the continuous growl of a deadly predator that was never too far away, and very hungry.

*********************************8

Gibbs fought the terrain while thinking about his team. He had faith in them. There wasn't a group more capable. They worked, they thought, they acted as one. And therein lies the problem. One third of a whole was missing. And the missing piece was DiNozzo. There were two ways of looking at that. One way was if the team had to be down anyone, he was glad it was Tony because even an injured Tony was still a very competent man. On the other hand, if it had been anyone else, Tony was more than capable of picking up the slack.

The voices ripped his mind off his team and he crouched down low, listening.

"I didn't see Fuzz. I take it you didn't either," Terrence Duncane said, visibly worried now about his brother.

"Nah," Tagg answered. "I went around pretty far, too, but I couldn't find him. That sound we heard…it sure did sound like a man's voice. Sounded like he was hurtin', too."

"Yeah, I know. The problem is in this valley it's hard to tell where it came from."

"You think it might have been Fuzz?"

"Who the hell else could it have been!"

"Well, for one, it could have been those Feds. You said they were hot on his ass. Maybe they followed him in here and were tracking him."

Terrence could always rely on his cousin to spell it out for him, no matter how ugly it was. Changing the topic, he asked, "Where's Marcus? I thought he was going to wait for us?"

"He must have heard something and went into hiding—the fucking coward that he is."

Terrence shook his head, "Brothers…"

"Yeah, can't live with 'em, and can't seem to cut 'em loose, either."

"Speak for yourself, Tagg. I happen to like my little brother."

"You're full of shit! He's been nothing but a pain in the ass to you, just like Marcus is to me. We always bailing them out of trouble. And what thanks do we get? We get another opportunity to bail them outta trouble!"

"Shhh. Do you hear that?"

Tagg listened. He heard a lot of noises out here, none he recognized. "I don't hear nothing. I depend on you to tell me if I should be worried, Terrence. You're the wilderness man who likes to live alone out here…one with nature," he harrumphed.

"Shut up!"

Tagg recognized the tone and crouched down. In the blackness, he could barely make out anything, much less his cousin moving down the trail.

Gibbs watched from atop a rock. He was much closer to them than he realized and they were now moving towards his team. He gave them two minutes and then he cupped his hands around his mouth, waited for the distant thunder to subside, and said, "Fuzz Duncane is up ahead!"

Terrence abruptly stopped and listened to the voice as it echoed around the mountain. He smiled, realizing for the first time that he was indeed on the trail of a Fed. And also that his little brother was just up ahead. His grin widened at the notion of helping his brother get rid of these cops once and for all. He plotted a strategy out in his head and then motioned for his cousin to circle west while he circled east. They split up, unknowingly following the trap that Gibbs was laying.

*********************************8

McGee checked his watch; they had fifteen minutes to get to the ridge to make the pickup, and they were at least an hour away. The good news was they were making steady progress; the bad news was they were simply moving too slowly. He pondered just how Gibbs always knew the future, with 100% accuracy. McGee thought they might have a change at making the pickup, but he was off by a good hour. Gibbs, on the other hand, just knew.

"Can we rest?"

The question was moot as McGee suddenly found himself taking his friend's weight.

"Sure, Tony," he said, through gritted teeth. After laying him flat, he shoved his backpack under his legs, and then stepped over next to Ziva. Together they looked at their colleague, catching glimpses of his body as the lightning flashed off in the distance. "What do you think?"

Ziva looked up, taking in the feel of the imminent storm, before saying, "I think we had better find some high ground."

"I agree. That storm is going to be on us in no time. That rock formation that Gibbs was talking about...if I recall correctly," he said, straining his eyes in the dark, "it's just up ahead. It'll at least give us some shelter."

Ziva looked in the direction of up-ahead. The bright white lightning flashes wouldn't have been bad except it had the affect of rendering her momentarily blind afterwards. She thought she might have seen something, but at this point, she was willing to see or believe anything. "We had better get going."

She leaned down and gently shook Tony, "We have to move again. Do you need help getting up?"

He didn't know, but evidently he wasn't moving fast enough because he felt someone behind him lifting his shoulders, pain and all.

"C'mon, we just have little further to go and then you can rest again."

McGee nudged him gently, hoping he had enough strength left in him to continue walking.

Ten minutes later, Ziva said, "I think I see something. Wait here."

Tony couldn't just wait. He had two modes: lying down or walking, but standing in limbo, waiting for something, was not part of his mindset. He swayed, thankful for the hands that steadied him, at least until he had nothing left to do but lean back into his friend's body and wait.

"Ah, Tony," McGee said, bracing himself against the extra weight of his friend. "I'm not sure I can hold you up," he said, fumbling with where to grab him in order to keep him on his feet. The weight of his friend was slowly forcing him to the ground, and at one point, he wondered if Tony was still conscious. Suddenly, Tony's weight was off him and he saw that Ziva had pulled him forward and was holding him steady.

Looking back at McGee, she said, "I found that formation you and Gibbs passed. I think it will be a good place to wait out the storm, but it is NOT going to be easy getting him in it."

A few minutes later, all three were staring up at a cave-covered rock ledge. "I don't remember it being so high," Tim admitted.

"Seems to be a detail that a trained investigator would have remembered!"

"Sorry, but you have to admit that it's the perfect place to ride out a storm."

"Assuming we can get to it!"

"And there are no hibernating bears inside."

"What?"

"Look at it. It's the perfect place to spend the winter. Maybe one of us should check it out first."

A loud clap of thunder sped things up.

"I will check it out," she hissed. Leaving Tony to lean against McGee again, she crawled up the rough terrain and shown her flashlight inside. The cave-like structure was big enough for someone to lie down, but more importantly, there was no evidence of any hibernating animals.

"It is perfect, McGee. Now figure out a way to get him up here."

"Can we go around it and get to it from above?"

The rain was beginning to fall as they could hear the large drops hitting the leaves. "Maybe," she said, disappearing momentarily to check. "Yes, there is a path this way."

They led Tony around the rocks and up a steep hill. Surprisingly, Tony did an okay job at maneuvering the terrain. By the time they made their way back down and around the rocks and into the cave, the heavens had erupted in the form of sheets of heavy rain pummeling the canopy.

All three were breathing hard from the trek, but at least now Tony could rest. Thankfully, it was not as small as it appeared from the outside. Tony was able to lay down while Ziva and McGee were able to comfortable sit next to him. McGee again shoved his pack under Tony's legs while Ziva leaned over him and tried to see his face. She pulled out her flashlight and said, "Tony, I am going to check your bandages."

If he said anything, she couldn't hear. The sound of the rain combined with the thunder drowned out anything he may have said.

**********************************8

Gibbs saw what he had been looking for: a beam of light. Up ahead, through the flashes of lightning and sheets of falling rain, he saw the distinct ray of an NCIS standard issue SureFire flashlight. The storm was upon him so he had doubled his efforts to reach his team. He had pulled his collar up and around his neck and had pulled his hat down over his ears. Not wanting to get shot, he pressed the button on his own flashlight three times quickly, then three times slowly, and then three times quickly again. He waited until he received the same signal back before he moved.

As he neared, he heard McGee call out, "Come in from the top. There's a path to your left."

He found it and easily slid into the opening and out of the pouring rain. "How is he?"

"About the same. Did you lose them?"

"Yeah," was what he said, but as he took off his coat and shook it, he thought back to how he had just barely managed to elude them.

Ziva and McGee watched him drape his coat over a boulder and sit down, leaning against the side of the cave and staring at Tony. They wanted to ask him about the men, but there was something in his demeanor that told them not to. Besides, if Gibbs wanted to talk, he would.

As Gibbs listened to the storm, he thought about the last two hours and how he'd lain in the undergrowth, covered by vines, weeds, and leaves. He had followed the men and had been waiting for them to cross the small stream. Even then, he knew he was in a dangerous place as the pending rains could no doubt cause flash flooding. He wondered if the Duncane kin were aware of the dangers. As soon as they crossed the stream, he was getting the hell out of Dodge and heading for high ground. He figured he had led them at least four or five miles away from Tony, which would buy them time to get help, but he also figured Terrence Duncane was no dummy and if he knew these woods like he thought he did, he'd figure out pretty quickly that it was a decoy and that the Feds had his baby brother. Then, there'd be hell to pay and it'd be damned hard to outrun him.

One thing at a time, he remembered thinking. First, make sure they cross the stream. Second, get to high ground. The smell of rain was in the air by the time Terrance and the other man had passed within feet of where Gibbs had been lying in wait. He had listened to them talk.

"Why'd we have to meet your brother out here?" Gibbs remembered them saying. "We should have stayed back where we were by the fire and the shelter."

"Shut up, Tagg. Do you hear anything?"

"Just the thunder."

"I mean do you hear Fuzz?"

"I don't hear nothin'! Maybe he's on the other side of this stream."

"I don't think we should cross it. With the storm coming, it could be a problem."

"Well, what're we gonna do? Wait here all night?"

Terrence looked around, agitated by the circumstances. Looking up, he knew the type of storm that was headed their way and he thought that maybe the reports hadn't been too far off this time.

"You think the Feds have him, Terrance?"

"I don't know, but we ain't crossing this stream. With the amount of rain headed our way, we'd get cut off for sure. C'mon, we're going to high country."

Gibbs had clenched his fist at the misfortune. Not only were they not crossing the stream, but they were heading towards the rock formation where he and McGee had stuffed Fuzz's body.

He had lain silently, listening to the thunder roll closer and the lightning flash brighter. Once he was sure they were out of sight, he uncovered himself and started off. He had to get to high ground and keep from being seen. He had found his way back onto the deer path and was following it, wondering how he was going to get his team out of this alive. He had to put as much ground between him and those men as quickly as possible because he was pretty sure he knew what they'd do once they discovered Fuzz' dead body.

"Hey!" Tony barked at the sudden pressure being applied to his shoulder.

Gibbs returned his attention to his team.

"The damn thing will not stop bleeding. How can you have this much blood inside you?"

"I'm sorry, Ziva," Tony hissed, "I didn't realize _that_ was a problem."

She stopped her ministrations, "It is only a problem when it pours out. Now, hold still."

"Where's McGee?"

"I'm right here. You're looking better than you were," Tim lied.

"Gibbs? Where's Gibbs?"

"I'm right here." He moved around to his side and studied his agent. His skin was flush and tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow.

Tim studied him like he used to study his own father. A man with a plan, is what he remembered his dad always saying. And that's exactly how Gibbs looked to him now: A man with a plan.

Gibbs removed his hat and rubbed his head. Looking down on his agent, he said, "Change of plans. Duncane knows this area better than I thought. He knew he'd be cut off if he crossed that stream."

"Where is he now?" McGee asked.

Gibbs listened to the rain pummeling the canopy of leaves. "Probably discovering his brother's body."

He and Ziva froze. It didn't take much to process that information and realize what it meant to them. They were going to have a family bent on revenge, and with a natural knowledge of these woods, hot on their heels in no time.

That knowledge paled in comparison to the expression on Tony's face as he, too, had figured out what it all meant.

"Whoa," Ziva said, gently pushing him back down, "where do you think you are going?"

"You heard what Gibbs just said…We have to move."

"You are not moving anywhere."

For some reason, Tony thought she was being unusually kind to him, and THAT had him worried. But the conversation got harder to have as the rain and wind grew in strength, making it difficult to hear anything. As he laid back down, he looked at his colleagues. He could no longer see their faces, but he felt them staring down on him, and he knew things had taken a turn for the worse.

******************************8

Ziva began her ministrations again and spent the better part of the next hour cleaning his wounds made by the mountain lion and redressing his shoulder. He winced once when she pressed too hard, but he was beginning to lose his battle with consciousness and she let him fall into oblivion. After placing rain soaked rags on his forehead and wrists, she scooted over next to her colleagues and said, "His fever is getting higher."

Gibbs had seen the deep gashes left behind by the fangs and claws as she cleaned them, and he saw the small hole where the bullet had entered the skin, and he knew what had to be done. If they didn't remove that bullet, they'd be carrying Tony out of these woods, and that wouldn't be such a bad thing if they didn't have to concern themselves with three vengeful men only a few hours behind.

"What's in your pack?" he asked.

McGee slid his backpack out from under Tony's legs and emptied its contents. "Camera, gloves, cotton, evidence kit, poncho, water, metholatum, radiation counter—that's left over from our last case, Boss—first-aid kit, extra ammunition, and…," he hesitated for fear of embarrassing himself with the next few items.

"And what?"

"And some handiwipes, mouthwash, a toothbrush and toothpaste. And a Kit-Kat bar." He could see Ziva's expression in the flashes of lightning and he felt compelled to defend his choice of supplies. "I sometimes feel…not clean after we process a crime scene, and I like to wash up afterwards and eat a snack."

Gibbs turned to Ziva and said, "What's in yours?"

She turned her attention to her pack and dumped it out on the ground. "I have a camera, notepad, pencil, extra ammunition, x-acto knife, handcuffs, rope, Kinesio tape, poncho, evidence kit, and…" she looked a little indignant at having to reveal the contents of a small floral pouch, "and my own personal kit."

"And Tony's?" Gibbs said.

McGee emptied the contents of Tony's backpack and began picking through the items. "Flashlight, evidence kit, ammo," and that's where familiarity ended. Both Ziva and McGee picked up different items and identified them.

"A flask?"

"A book of matches?"

"A copy of GSM?"

"A 007 Action Figure?"

"Wow!" McGee said, admiring the toy, "Is it Sean Connery or Roger Moore?" Glancing at Gibbs, he quickly added, "Not important—Here's a first-aid kit," he offered, hoping to take the attention back to the contents of the pack.

"Sunglasses."

"Survival blanket."

"A hand grenade?"

Gibbs took that gently from Ziva's hand and studied it. Sure enough, it was a live grenade with the pin taped over.

McGee continued, "Identification badges…for the FBI, CIA, DHS, NSA…He has a badge for every agency."

"—What are you doing?"

Three heads turned to see Tony staring straight at them while they rummaged through the contents of his backpack.

McGee stammered, "Um, we are, uhh, not doing anything—."

"…I need some water."

Ziva reached for a bottle but was stopped by Gibbs. He picked it up and carefully made his way to Tony's side, "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap. But if you're asking me if I can walk, I can."

"No, not walk." He lifted Tony's head and titled the bottle to his lips. "That bullet needs to come out."

Tony's eyes widened at the thought. "By a doctor…in a hospital, right?"

"No. Now."

Ziva and McGee looked incredulously at each other. Ziva finally said, "Are you kidding, Gibbs? How are you going to take out a bullet way out here?"

Tony jumped in, "I'm in," for he knew that the cause of his fever was that bullet and the sooner it was out, the sooner he could function. Or so he hoped.

"Boss," McGee began, "do you think that's such a good idea?"

"No, McGee, I don't think this is such a good idea, but it's the best we got right now. If we don't take that bullet out, there's no way he's going to be able to walk outta here."

"But—"

"But what, McGee? By now, Terrence has found his brother's body. They will be coming after us and Tony's got to be able to move. We get the bullet out, lower the fever, and get out of here the second this storm breaks, and we just might have a chance of making it."

McGee knew it was futile to argue. Much like his prone colleague, when Gibbs decided something, it was damn near impossible to get him to change his mind. Reluctantly, he agreed. "What do you need?"

He rubbed the back of hand across his mouth, thinking, then he listed off the items he wanted.

TBC

 **Many thanks to those who have commented. It makes reading and re-reading (and re-reading, and re-reading...) bearable. I'm glad you are enjoying it. ~~Jasmine**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nobody was more unsure of what they were about to do than Tony. He could barely hear anything over the deluge of rain and claps of thunder, and the flashes of lightning were blinding.

"Boss, I think I'm feeling better."

Ziva soothed his fears, "You will be fine, Tony. I have seen this done in the field many times."

"You're lying."

"Well, I have heard about it being done. Besides, you are strong, are you not? At least you constantly brag about your stamina and vigor."

"I can assure you that the stamina and vigor I'm bragging about has nothing to do with this."

"Tell me, Tony, why do you carry a copy of GSM in your backpack?"

Tony's thoughts were between her question and what Gibbs was doing. Gibbs' activity won out after he heard the snap of latex gloves. Then he saw his boss waive a knife over the flame of a match. It unnerved him.

Nervous that her distracting questions weren't distracting him, she gently turned his head back towards her and said, "You will be fine, I promise. It is best that you ignore what they are doing and concentrate on my questions."

"What are they doing?"

She dropped her shoulders and said, "You are incorrigible. I just said it is best to ignore them and you ask me questions ABOUT them."

"I can't help it. It's my nature to be nosy."

Gibbs knew Tony well enough to know that he wasn't going to let it go. "Tony?" he said quietly.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"A bullet is often sterilized when it exits the barrel, but it's the fragments of clothing that cause infections. I'm going to remove that bullet and flush out the wound. Then, we're gonna get out of here. You think you're up for that?"

"Sure," he nodded, although he didn't look too convincing. "How deep is this bullet?"

"Don't know."

"How close are those Duncane brothers?"

"Don't know."

Ziva interrupted, "Do not worry about them. We will take care of them if they come within sight."

"Yeah, Tony," McGee added while saturating a stiff piece of fabric with alcohol from the flask, "Don't give Terrence Duncane much thought. He's most likely holed up in a cave like we are waiting out this storm."

"Or he's found his brother and singularly focused on revenge," he whispered.

Ignoring him, Tim said, "Here, take a swallow," and he handed Ziva the flask.

"What's in here?" she asked.

"Some finely aged bourbon," Tony answered.

"You carry a flask of bourbon with you?" she asked incredulously.

"You never know on those long stake outs when you're gonna have to keep warm."

"We're in a fully functional van. If we have to keep warm we can just turn on the heater," she replied.

"You have your way of getting warm and I have my w—" he garbled the last word because she had tilted the flask to his lips and let it flow out. He swallowed and then grimaced. It was much stronger than he'd remembered.

Gibbs knelt next to Tony and said, "Bite down on this."

Tony opened his mouth and felt the stiff cloth getting placed between his teeth. At least it had been soaked in bourbon first. He could only watch and listen now, realizing that his contribution to the procedure was rapidly being reduced to nothing.

"Ziva? Clean the wound with this," Gibbs said, handing her the bottle of mouth wash.

She thought it was going to sting, and she was right based on his reaction when she poured the liquid directly on the wound.

"That bullet is probably lodged in the scapalous muscle. It might take me a while to find it. If he doesn't pass out fairly quickly, he's going to feel every bit of it. You're going to have to hold him down."

"I can do better than that," McGee said. He grabbed his set of handcuffs and said, "Tony, I'm going to cuff your hands to your belt loops. It's just so you won't move around too much." Ziva gave Tim a sideways glance for he sounded a tad too happy saying it.

Tony mumbled something through the cloth.

Gibbs stepped over him and knelt down on the other side, his back to the outside. This way he could use his body to block out the lightning flashes. "Ziva, untie his shoes."

Ziva untied them and then loosened the laces. Gibbs unbuckled Tony's belt and unbuttoned his jeans, running his fingers between Tony's skin and the elastic on his underwear. He didn't like what he felt so he took his knife and sliced through the elastic band. He removed his watch and checked the rest of Tony's clothes, making sure there were no other circulation problems. Satisfied, he looked at McGee and said, "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Ziva?"

"I am ready, too."

"Tony?" he paused, wondering what he could possibly say that would lessen what was about to come. "Try to stay still. I'm going to have to probe for the bullet. You ready?"

Tony nodded, but Gibbs knew he wasn't remotely prepared for what he was about to feel.

Gibbs swiped his sleeve across his forehead and nodded to McGee to shine the light directly on the wound.

He took his sterilized knife and pressed it into Tony's skin.

Tony bucked, causing Gibbs to almost lose his grip. "Hold him down!"

Tim thrust the flashlight between his teeth and employed a tactic he seldom ever used. He learned in FLETC how to use both hands to tilt a person's head back, rendering said person nearly immobile. Commonly called the Oxygen Hold, for its resemblance to a patient being administered oxygen through a mask, Tony's struggle quickly lost its strength. Meanwhile, Ziva flung herself over his midsection, hoping her weight would be enough.

Gibbs pushed the blade deeper. In Tony's current position, all he could do was let out a guttural cry which Gibbs easily ignored. He blocked out every sound and every thought that didn't have something to do with finding that bullet.

Ziva finally felt her colleague go completely limp underneath her. She had been relieved that he had passed out because she was soaking wet with sweat. She took the flashlight from McGee's mouth and shone is brightly on where Gibbs was probing for the bullet. Without much success, he made a new incision a quarter of an inch to the side of the hole and felt the hard metal casing as the blade of his knife scraped over it.

"I found you," he whispered to no one. Another three minutes of opening up the incision and wiping blood away and digging eventually proved successful and the bullet could now been seen. Gibbs set down his knife and probed the wound with his fingers until he could pull it out. They all three stared at it in the beam of the SureFire. "It is a good thing Ducky is not around to see what you have done," Ziva said, referring to the mess he'd made of Tony's shoulder.

"I think he would approve under the circumstances," Gibbs replied, sliding the bullet into this pocket. Using more of the alcohol, he washed out the wound and then packed the hole with gauze and wrapped the shoulder with the Kinesio tape. When it was all done, the three sat back, realizing for the first time just how exhausted they were.

Ziva removed the cloth from Tony's mouth and let his head lull to one side. He was out cold. McGee unlocked the cuffs and freed his arms, but they were already lying limp at his side. It was anyone's guess as to how long he would remain unconscious, but it couldn't be too long, for they had murderers to outrun, hungry cats to avoid, and a chopper to catch.

*************************8

Ziva awoke with a start. She wasn't sure what woke her, but something wasn't right. She looked around in the darkness. The wind was still whipping the trees and the rain was still pummeling the ground, but something was off. She could hear McGee sleeping softly next to her, but she couldn't see a damn thing. Even the lightning seemed to have abated somewhat. She reached out and felt for Tony. He hadn't moved. She didn't dare speak for she sensed someone was outside. She moved her hand to her gun and pulled it out slowly.

"Easy, Ziva."

She squinted her eyes. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

"Something is wrong."

"I know. We have company."

"Who?"

"Not who… what."

She crawled forward, thankful for the few lightning flashes. "What is out there?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it's that mountain lion."

"He followed us?"

"He smells blood."

"Will he attack?"

"If he's hungry enough."

She looked up, wondering if the rain was ever going to stop. "We should think about moving out."

Gibbs looked around her at the passed out agent. He didn't have to say anything for her to understand.

The guttural growl was just outside the cave. Ziva leaned back on her haunches, steadily pointing her gun at the opening. Gibbs seemed particularly relaxed, but then again, she couldn't see him so she really didn't know. She focused her energy on the opening to the cave. If that cat managed to get itself inside their space, it would be disastrous. There would be no way of aiming a weapon, and therefore, no way of knowing where the bullets landed.

"What's going on?" McGee asked, barely audible over the weather.

"We have company of the four legged kind."

McGee sat up, pulling his weapon and staring into the darkness. He wasn't sure if the lack of focus was due to just waking up or it simply being too black to focus on anything. The flashes of lightning were just enough for him to see Gibbs and Ziva with their weapons drawn and ready to shoot. Tony's head was still lulled to one side, and since Gibbs and Ziva had the entrance covered from the right, he scooted around Tony and perched himself at Tony's feet. That's when he heard the menacing growl of the cat. It was way closer than he realized. A mountain lion could easily leap five yards straight up, and if given enough motivation, it could drag a full size deer behind. He did not want to see Tony become its last meal; or for that matter, any of them. He wondered if Ziva knew that about this animal. She must have known something because she definitely seemed anxious.

Gibbs whispered, "Take it easy. I don't want to—"

The cat landed much like a feather lands on the ground, filling the opening with its massive body. The scream that emanated from its fanged mouth was chilling. There was very little time to react, but trained federal agents were accustomed to not having much information to go on before they take action. And action is what they took with each unloading their gun and praying it would be enough to stop it.

The sound was deafening.

****************************8

Terrance jerked up his head. "Did you hear that!"

Tag's head was up too, "Yeah, I heard it."

"Sounded like gunfire."

"I'm gonna kill me some Feds!" Terrance seethed. "They kilt Fuzz and stuffed him under some rocks."

"We all are gonna kill us some Feds."

"C'mon!"

"Are you insane!" Marcus whined. "We won't get far in this weather."

"Are you comin' or not."

******************************8

When the smoke cleared, it was as if nothing had been there. Ziva half expected to see the dead animal sprawled across the ledge, but there was nothing.

"What…?" Tony mumbled, rolling his head and coughing, an action that produced significant agony.

Tim was reluctant to lower his weapon but answered, "We had a visitor. It's gone, I think." He glanced at Ziva and asked, "You want to check it out?"

"No. You're closer to the opening."

But before either could move, Gibbs had inched his way towards the ledge and looked down.

"You see anything, Boss?"

"No."

"Impossible!" Ziva said, pushing her way to his side and peering out into the rain soaked darkness. "I know I hit it square in the chest. No way it could have survived that."

"I did too," McGee said, joining them. "I know I hit it."

"It doesn't matter. We gotta move out."

"What?" they said in unison.

"Duncane and his boys must have heard the shots. Assuming they've already found his brother, they're probably nearby."

"Is there a chance they could think it was just thunder?" McGee asked, knowing the answer before he sensed the glare from Gibbs. Looking out at the pouring rain, he followed that with, "Is there a chance maybe he didn't find his brother?"

"Check on him," Gibbs said, ticking his head at Tony.

"That's what I thought," McGee said to himself. Inching backwards, he looked down at his friend. He didn't look so bad, but he was only able to catch glimpses of him whenever the lightning flashed. "Tony?" he said, shaking him a little. "Tony! You gotta wake up."

"Yeah?"

"We have to be moving out. You think you're up to it?"

"Yeah."

Ziva was checking his bandage and it looked good. There wasn't much blood on the dressing and he had some color in his face. She checked his arms and thought the gashes and claw marks didn't look so angry anymore either. She wished his clothes weren't so shredded, but that was the least of her worries.

"Can you sit up?" she asked.

He shifted slightly, using his one good arm to help, "I can try…"

She grabbed hold of him and pulled until he was sitting. There wasn't much room to stand and the next logical thought was how in the hell were they going to get him off that ledge.

"Follow me," Gibbs said to McGee.

Before long, she had managed to get Tony's legs over the edge and then she held onto him as he essentially dropped down into the waiting arms of Gibbs and McGee. He only cried out in pain when McGee wrenched his arm while trying to keep him from falling backwards.

"Let's go!" Gibbs shouted over the pouring rain.

They took up the same pattern as earlier: Gibbs out front, Ziva next, Tony in the middle with his arm cradled close to his chest, and McGee bringing up the rear, staying within arm's reach.

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder and watched the three. He had set a decent pace and surprisingly Tony was keeping up, but it was still slow going. On top of that, Gibbs was now having trouble separating the rain beaten path from the woods and getting lost in the Shenandoah Mountains was not an option at this point. They needed to reach that ridge and catch that chopper if Tony had a prayer of surviving this ordeal.

"Boss?" McGee shouted. "I think we should rest. What I mean is I think Tony can use the rest."

Gibbs looked back and saw Tony leaning heavily against a tree and Ziva and McGee holding him. For a moment there it felt like the torrential rains were letting up. If that were the case, Duncane and his goons would pick up their pace, and he'd bet his last dollar that Duncane knew exactly where they were headed since the bastard knew these mountains well and knew the closest pickup place was atop that bluff. And when Gibbs crawled inside the head of the man who had found his own brother dead, stuffed in between rocks, he didn't like what he saw. There became a man, rift in anger, who would stop at nothing to avenge his brother's death. They'd be sitting ducks waiting for that chopper to pick them up. He felt his SIG and thought about how much ammunition they had left. Not enough. Not nearly enough to fight off three heavily armed and singularly focused convicts.

He did a quick calculation in his head and made the executive decision to turn back. Ranger Ted Sparks had mentioned another clearing about four miles north of the fork in the trail. They were already 2 miles away. If they turned back now, they'd have six miles to cover.

"Gibbs?"

He jerked around, bringing his attention back to his agents. "Yeah?"

Ziva began in a low whisper, "I can't stop the bleeding. Everything is soaked and we're out of supplies. How much further to the pickup point?"

"Change of plans," he added calmly. "We're going back."

Neither Ziva nor McGee responded. They knew that if Gibbs was willing to turn around at this point, he must know something that they didn't. With speed that defied the conditions, Gibbs grabbed hold of Tony's label and dropped him to the ground. He opened his shirt and saw the soggy and blood soaked bandage where he'd removed the bullet. Taking his foot, he kicked some leaves aside and dug deep into the ground and pulled up a handful of mud. He literally slapped it on Tony wound, causing him to buck and curse, "Holy Shit!" Tony hissed. "What are you doing?"

"It'll take a whole lot more for your blood to seep through this mud than an already useless piece of gauze. Now listen to me, Tony," Gibbs said, becoming serious. He tore off a long strip of Tony's shirt and wrapped it around Tony's neck and shoulder. Then he pulled it tight and fastened it in a knot. Before the pain settled, Gibbs continued, "Duncane and his men will be on us in no time. We're going to have to double back about five miles. I need you to keep it together. We can make it, but we can't carry you. You got that?"

His arm was throbbing, his head was pounding, and his vision was blurred, and he felt like crap. He usually felt better after lying flat for a few minutes, but he wasn't feeling any better now, after Gibbs had finished with him. On top of that, how was he going to make it another five miles? He already felt like he'd walked a marathon! His legs were jelly and his head was fuzzy, not to mention the outright pain that coursed through his limbs. How was he going to make it? But he nodded dutifully and said, "I got it….I'll make it, Boss."

"Good," Gibbs replied, patting his shoulder. "McGee," he said, turning his attention to his other agents, "take the high ground, and don't get caught in a low valley or gulch. Be on the lookout for Duncane; if you see them, lie low until they pass. Keep him quiet. The big one, Fuzz' brother, knows these woods and can track, so make sure you cover yours. You got that?"

"I got it."

"Where're you going?" Ziva asked, somewhat incredulously. The rain was lessening but the extreme light show was worthy of top dollar by any pyrotechnics' definition.

"To the ridge to call the station. Let them know our change of plans. I'll have them meet us at 0700." He tossed them Tony's pack, and said, "Go on! I'll catch up to you." He gave his downed agent one final glance, and took off into the rain and darkness.

Ziva looked down at her partner, wondering how in the world they were going to make another five miles. Then she looked at McGee, who was obviously wondering the same. "Well," she began, "we had better get going."

He nodded, "Yeah. Okay." If he downplayed it, then maybe it wouldn't feel so formidable. "I'll take Tony if you grab his pack."

"No, I should take him while you start us out. You know these woods better than I do. Besides, he is easier to handle after he has been lying down."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Tony said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

She smiled and knelt down beside him, "Only that you had better not make me carry you."

"Like that could happen."

"In Mossad, I was trained to carry a man twice my size. I think I can manage you."

"Whatever you say, but I won't stop you if you want to try," he said, only half teasing.

"What do you think Gibbs will say when he finds out that his senior field agent can't walk a measly five miles?"

"I hate to interrupt this..er…whatever this is," McGee said, "but we gotta move."

McGee and Ziva both helped him to his feet and steadied him as the blood left his head. He hugged his bad arm to his torso, wincing at the resurgence of pain in his body.

"Let's move," McGee said, trying his best not to think about the daunting task that lays ahead.

Tony took a steadying breath and set off. He concentrated on each step, focusing on the ground cover, and trying to stay conscious. He stumbled a couple of times, but Ziva was right there to catch him. Slow and steady wins the race, he kept saying to himself. One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right...

How long had he been walking? he wondered. It felt like hours, but it was probably no more than minutes. He really had no idea. He let time pass as he focused his energies on other things, like staying upright. It was no easy task following the path in the daylight hours, and it was damned near impossible doing it at night in the middle of a thunderstorm. Every so often, they'd stray from the trail and take to higher ground, which was made that much more difficult by the darkness and rain. He had to keep going, no matter how he felt. There was no way either of his teammates could carry him, and besides, he wasn't going to let that happen. He had promised Gibbs he'd make it and that's exactly what he planned on doing.

He was so busy concentrating on moving forward that he wasn't paying any attention and would have slammed right into McGee if it hadn't been for Ziva pulling him up.

"I heard something," Tim whispered.

Tony's mind wasn't all too clear at the moment and he didn't figure it out nearly as quickly as his partner.

"Duncane?" she asked.

"I think so. Remember that narrow passage a little ways back?"

"The one next to the ditch?"

"That's the one. Let's go."

McGee helped her turn Tony around and nudged him forward.

"What a minute—"

"—No time to wait, Tony. He's moving fast."

They made their way back about fifty yards and looked over the side of the trail. It was deeper than either remembered, but not impossible.

"Tony, we're going to help you get down into this trench. Whatever you do, don't make a lot of noise."

Ziva picked the least steep place and started over the side. Looking upwards, she knew if Tony fell, there was no way she could stop him. "McGee, do not let go of him. If he falls, we are both going down."

"Don't worry, I got him." He had hold of Tony's belt and leaned forward and whispered into Tony's ear, "I move as you move. Go slow and if you feel yourself slipping, lean back into me. Got it?"

Tony nodded slightly.

"Okay," he encouraged, "Let's go."

As awkward as it was, somehow they managed to make it to the bottom of the trench, but it cost Tony. He sunk down into the running stream and lay there, catching his breath.

Ziva crouched down next to him and whispered to McGee, "Isn't this exactly what Gibbs told us not to do?"

McGee let the water, which was only about three inches deep but was at least three feet wide, rush around him before nodding, "You got a better idea?"

She didn't have any ideas, let alone a better one. "No. Are you sure you heard voices?"

"I'm sure. Let's get him covered up and then we can cover ourselves up."

"Do we have to be in this water?" Tony mumbled. "It's freezing."

"Sorry about that, but, yes, we do. Just lie back and we will cover you," she said.

Satisfied that Tony was well camouflaged, Ziva laid down next to him and covered herself over with enough debris to make her invisible. McGee laid on the other side and did the same.

Tim needed this. Surprisingly, it felt good to be resting. They had walked a mile, maybe less, in the black, through torrential rains, with an injured man, yet they had made good time. He calculated the time in his head. At the rate they were going, they'd just make the clearing at 7:00 a.m. They were cutting it close and stopping to let Duncane pass was cutting into that time. But they might be able to make up time once those men were well behind them. He could move a little faster and make a little more noise than he'd been able to do since they had left the cave. With Tony resting now, he should feel better for the next leg of the trip. As long as they didn't slow down too much, or take too many breaks, they just might make it with a few minutes to spare. Of course, that's assuming no one had to be carried.

He heard Duncane approaching through a break in the rain. Slowly, he pulled his weapon while leaning over and whispering into Tony's ear, "They're coming. Be silent and don't move a muscle."

Tony closed his eyes and relaxed his body, willing himself invisible.

Ziva pulled her gun and stared straight up into the darkness. She also heard them moving towards them. They were plodding and sounded like a herd of antelopes. She wondered if she and Tony had sounded as loud traversing the trail. Forgetting about that, she focused her attention on their conversation.

"Shut up, Marcus!" Tagg said. "Even I'm tired of your complaining!"

"I mean it, man! We should stop and let this storm pass."

"After what they did to Fuzz! You want to just let them get away!"

"No, man, that ain't what I'm saying. I'm saying we can get 'em some other time."

"I want that son of a bitch now! I want to see his eyes just before I put a bullet between them!"

"It's too fuckin' dark to see anything out here, much less someone's eyes, Terrence!"

"Not if you're close enough!"

"You're nuts, man. Fucking nuts!"

"Maybe, but they're headed for that ridge. I know it. That's the only place they can get picked up. And when they walk out into that clearing, I'm gonna pick 'em off, one at a time."

As they got louder, McGee's heart raced and he unconsciously clutched his Sig a little tighter. Even through the rain and thunder, he could hear them clearly. And now he could see them. He watched the first man hug the rock wall as he inched around it. He seemed a little more sure footed than the next man, who was wearing a red shirt and who inched even slower around the rock, peering nervously over the edge. The last man was just as big but not nearly as confident. With his rifle swinging from his shoulder and clutching at the sides of the rock, he looked as if he was going to lose his balance any second.

Just then, Tony moved.

"What was that!" one of them called out.

"I heard it, too! Hey Terrence, what do you think that was?"

"It's probably an animal, you idiots! Wanting food!" He stopped momentarily and looked back at his cousins, in disgust. "We are in THEIR house, and THEY are hungry!"

"In this storm?" Marcus asked skeptically.

"Yes! In this storm! They don't sit in front of a warm fireplace waiting for their food to cook! They smell it, they stalk it, and then they kill it! If they don't drag it away, they eat it! And unless you want to be dinner for that mountain lion, or a snack to that bear I saw, you had better keep moving!"

Ziva held her breath as the last man nervously clung to the rock and maneuvered his way back onto the narrow trail. She waited until she could no longer hear them before she let out a sigh. She didn't dare speak, but with each passing minute, she became more and more eager to get out of the water. It may have just been her imagination, but it seemed higher than it had been.

As if he could read her mind, Tim said, "Let's give them another five minutes, then we'll leave."

"Good idea."

"Besides," he looked down on his friend whose breathing was labored and face pale, "Tony could use the rest."

****************************8

Gibbs reached the ridge and pulled out his phone. Carefully waiving it around, he finally got two bars. He dialed.

"Ranger's Stations, this is Betty. How can I help you?"

"This is Special Agent Gibbs from NCIS."

"Special Agent Gibbs! We've been waiting to hear from you. Hold on!"

Before he could object, he was put on hold. A clap of thunder shook the ground, but he dared not move in case he lost his connection.

"Special Agent Gibbs, this is Ted Sparks. I'm sorry, but we were grounded and weren't able to send—"

"—Nevermind that! We've moved locations. Send a chopper to the other location—that clearing—at 0700."

"The clearing at 0700, got it! Are you okay? How's the agent that's injured?"

"Not good. We'll need a medivac to the nearest hospital."

"You goi"

Gibbs furrowed his brow, "Hello? Hello!" The line had gone dead. He stowed his phone in his pocket, adjusted his NCIS cap and headed back the way he'd come. He let his mind drift to his team. How were they fairing? Had they encountered Duncane? How was Tony making it? He thought about the scar that would appear on his shoulder from the bullet that he not-so-delicately removed, and wondered if Tony would object to that. He was vain, but not vain, if that makes sense. Gibbs figured in the scheme of things, Tony wouldn't give the scar a second thought. Or, he'd wear it like a badge, enhancing the story with each iteration. Regardless, if Tim and Ziva could get him past Duncane, Gibbs was relatively sure they'd make it. Those thoughts made his trek bearable, until he realized something. The trail was getting crowded. Suddenly he was aware of all the wildlife, who, like him, was avoiding the low lying areas.

If the wildlife was sharing the path with him, then he could be assured that Duncane and his goons would also be taking it. He pushed all other thoughts from his head and focused on avoiding that meeting. With one clip of ammo left, he didn't stand a chance, and he didn't exactly see himself coming to the end of his line out here, in the middle of nowhere, in a torrential thunderstorm. Fortunately, his gut agreed.

******************************8

"I got'cha," McGee said when Tony stumbled. Tim braced himself for the added weight as his colleague leaned back into him. He held onto Tony's jacket and let his head lull back on his shoulder. Time was exhausted and they weren't even half way there. He couldn't imagine how Tony was feeling.

"I can't…go on…"

Ziva doubled back and saw her teammates, "Is he okay?"

"He's exhausted."

"And you?"

"Same."

She looked around until she found what she wanted, "C'mon, Tony. Just a few steps and you can lean up against a tree." She put her arm around his waist and wrapped his good arm around her neck and led him twenty five yards up the path. Then she positioned him so he could lean back. Once against the tree, he rolled his head back, letting the rain splash down on him.

She studied him a minute when a thought slammed into her head. She pulled back his jacket and opened his shirt. Gasping, she said, "McGee! Look at this!"

Tim was beside her and looking at the shoulder. The mud had long since washed away, and the blood had saturated his clothing again. "That's why he couldn't go on. He's losing too much blood."

They laid him down on the path and he immediately lost consciousness. "Uh oh," Tim said, "what are we going to do now?"

"Stop the bleeding." This time, she tore off multiple strips of fabric from Tony's shirt. Then dug into the ground and pulled up another handful of mud and packed the wound. Tim tied several of the pieces together to make one long piece, and then proceeded to thread it under his arm, over the wound (crisscrossing it at his neck), and then pull one piece down his back and the other across his chest and fasten both ends to his belt.

"His fever is back," he stated.

She took a moment to feel his forehead, shoot McGee a worried look, and then go back to what she was doing. She gently positioned his arm across his chest and proceeded to make a make-shift sling, wrapping the cloth around his neck. Not ideal, but it would have to do.

"How much time do we have?" she asked.

Tim glanced at his watch, "About two hours."

"Can we make it?"

"Do we have a choice?"

When there was nothing left to do for her partner, she sat back and let the drops of rain hit her face. What she wouldn't give to be back in that shelter. At least there she could lie down and rest. As her mind became restless, her thoughts became unpleasant. She looked down at her colleague, burning with fever, doing his best to keep his promise to Gibbs. But in so doing, he may end up killing himself from the exertion. And then there was McGee, who was exhausted, having to carry the weight of their colleague when necessary. And then there was her. Soaked to the bone, exhausted like McGee, and unsure of where they were headed. She eventually caught his eye and whispered, "What are we going to do?"

He sensed her despair in the blackness of the night. She was there for him when he needed it, so it's time he was there for her. Confidently, he whispered back, "We keep going, and we don't stop until we're there."

She needed that. She needed to hear sane words; words that she could focus on and had meaning. "Then, we had better get going."

McGee nodded, forcing his own emotions to equal those of his words. He placed a hand on Tony's chest and felt his breathing. For the first time in a long time, it was steady. The minute they woke him up, though, it wouldn't be. Tim was in no hurry to disturb him and from the lack of action by Ziva, she was in no hurry either. But the reality was, they had to keep moving in order to make that 0700 deadline. As it was, they couldn't afford to rest too long in any one spot because they both knew that there were many more stops ahead, and that assumed Tony was able to make it most of the way on his own.

Tim shook his friend gently, "Tony? Time to get moving."

"Hmmm."

"We have to get back on the trail."

"O…kay…"

Ziva slid one hand under him, "Let's get up."

He mumbled something else and blinked his eyes, coming around slowly.

"You gonna make it?" Tim asked.

Tony took in his surroundings like it was his first time noticing where he was. "Of course I'm gonna make it," he mumbled. "When have I not?"

"You always feel better after you've been lying down. Ask me that same question after you've walked a couple of miles."

Tony furrowed his brow at the contraption that was holding his arm against his chest. "What's this?"

"It will help keep the blood inside you," Ziva answered. "I have never known anyone to just keep bleeding, and bleeding, and bleeding, and—"

"—aw-right," Tony mumbled. "I get the point. Help me up, will ya?"

Between the two of them, they got him to his feet and pointed him west. McGee went ahead, setting the pace and blazing the trail. He wasn't sure which was more difficult: walking point or playing safety net. To pass the time, he started a mental list of each. The pros of walking point were he got to set the pace, he was free to concentrate on the trail, and he could better keep track of time. The cons were he had to set the pace, he had to forge a trail, and he was keenly aware of the time and what his pace was doing to DiNozzo. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, catching clear images of his teammates whenever his glances timed perfectly with the lightning. It didn't surprise him that Tony was keeping up. What surprised him was that HE, Timothy McGee, was still standing. Physical stamina had never been his strong suit, but here he was, setting the pace and doing a fairly decent job of it, too. That is until he heard Ziva call out.

"McGee!"

He hurried back. Based on her struggling under the weight of the man, his next question was rather moot: "What's up?"

"He needs another rest," she struggled to say. Tim helped to lower him to the ground and lie him flat. They checked the bandage and was pleased to see it was holding. But having lost as much blood as he already had, this exertion was not helping his heart.

Catching her breath, she said, "He cannot keep going like this."

"He has to. Once we reach the area, he can sleep until the chopper arrives, but until then, we have to keep moving."

She swiped her hand across her face, knowing that what he was saying was true, but also knowing that pushing her partner beyond his capabilities could be disastrous.

"I'll take him now," McGee said. He handed her his compass and said, "Just keep to the high ground and walk west."

She nodded, shimmied into her backpack, and helped him get Tony upright again.

She didn't like point; she preferred to be with her partner, keeping an eye on him, making sure he wasn't going to bleed to death. She had trained her ear to listen for him, and found herself anxious whenever he struggled to breathe. She felt like she spent more time looking behind her than in front of her as she tried her best to monitor him for signs of dizziness, disorientation, or sheer exhaustion. She wanted to hold onto him and make sure he didn't fall whenever he stumbled, but that was no longer her job. She had to leave all that to McGee, who was more than capable of caring for him. As for Tony, she'd been around enough people in her lifetime to know that he was in bad shape and urgently needed medical care. How long could he keep going? How long before they had to figure out a way to carry him? A clap of thunder startled her from her thoughts. Damn, she cursed the weather. If it wasn't bad enough to have to meet a deadline, there didn't seem to be any respite from the pouring rains. The thick canopy of trees prevented much of it from reaching them, but they were already soaked to the bone, so a little more or a little less no longer seemed to matter. Besides, even if it did stop raining, water fell from the leaves almost as heavily as it did from the sky. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that McGee was no longer walking behind Tony; instead, they were side by side, with Tony's arm draped around McGee's shoulder and McGee bearing the bulk of Tony's weight. For an instant, she wanted to go to them and help, but she would be of little use. She had teased Tony earlier that she could lift a man twice her weight, and she could at one time, but it was for short distances and it didn't matter how she treated the body. She would be of little use now and she knew it. She turned back around and focused her attention on finding the widest part of the trail and making progress.

*******************************8

Gibbs noticed the lack of animals before he sensed something was wrong. It was the silence that alerted him. He stepped off the path and crouched low, listening for anything that might give him a clue as to what was up ahead. The lightning was a double-edged sword; it allowed him to see clearly up the path, but it also allowed others to see him clearly. Being alone in the Shenandoah Mountains was never advisable; unfortunately, at the moment, it was unavoidable. Any number of predators were lurking nearby and each knew how to stalk its prey in a manner that was so silent and deadly that the prey didn't know it was dinner until the moment it had become dinner.

And then he heard them. It wasn't like they were making lots of noise; it was more like they were tired and fed up with the weather and angry at each other. He crept further back off the path where he found a cluster of trees. He wedged himself in between two, allowing the limbs to offer further camouflage, and waited. He could barely make out what they were saying as they neared.

"Hey, Terrence! Why can't we stop and wait out this storm?"

"Shutup, Marcus. All you've been doing is complaining."

"No, man! I ain't complaining, but I don't see why we can't find some shelter and wait this storm out?"

"Terrence, I have to agree with my brother for once. He may not be the brightest, but he ain't stupid. It's not like they're gonna fly a helicopter in this weather to pick 'em up!"

What was said next, Gibbs couldn't make out, but he did conclude that their general disposition was devolving rapidly with each falling rain drop. The good news? His team had successfully evaded them. He eased back in the crux of the tree and took the opportunity to let his muscles relax. They should be making good progress toward the rendezvous point, assuming DiNozzo was still upright.

DiNozzo. If he continued to lose blood, that would be a problem. He assumed that his agent was okay and that McGee and Ziva could get him there before he passed out. But those were some pretty big assumptions. He pushed those thoughts away and let Duncane and his goons slog by; evidently, Terrence won the argument.

TBC

 **Author's note: Again, many thanks for the comments. It definitely helps the writing muse! ~~Jasmine**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Ziva!"

She whipped around at the sound of her name and saw both men about to sub-plant. She hurried back and realized that Tony had slipped from McGee's grip and was seconds away from falling face first into the mud. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tried to lift him, but lost her footing and slid, falling backwards and taking him down with her.

It took her a second to realize what had happened, and another minute to decide if anything was broken. When she regained her composure and visualized what had just happened, she started to giggle.

At first, McGee looked down on them, worried that he'd have two injured people to carry, but then he heard her laughing and was suddenly struck with the giggles himself. Plopping down in the muck and grime next to her, he allowed all those bottled up emotions to escape.

"Are you all right?" he finally managed to say.

She nodded, chortled, and said, "I think so, but I need help getting him off me."

In their revelry, they didn't even think to see how Tony was doing, but their questions were answered once McGee successfully rolled him over. He was out cold. And burning up.

"Well," she breathed, still trying to catch her breath from the weight of her partner, at least he won't be able to tease me about this.

"Have you felt him?"

Her mood quickly changed as she laid a muddy hand upon his forehead. "Damn," she whispered. "He is very hot."

"Don't let him hear you say that," McGee deadpanned, hoping to capture some of the levity of just moments ago.

"How are we going to get him to the pickup spot?"

"I don't know, but we got to think of something."

"Look," she said, pointing to a rock formation about 15 feet up the trail. "Do you think we can get him there? At least we would be out of the rain, and we could think."

"We can try," McGee said already lifting Tony's torso. He slid his hands under Tony's armpits and linked his fingers together around his chest. Seeing what he was attempting, Ziva straddled Tony's body and grabbed hold of his jacket, allowing Tim to position his grip around Tony's upper body. Then, she wrapped her hands around his ankles and looked up.

When she nodded, McGee said, "On the count of three, lift him up as best you can and I'll stand."

She nodded and he counted. Getting him up was easier than they thought it would be. While McGee took the bulk of his weight, Ziva his legs from dragging, and together they moved down the path and laid him flat under the rock overhang. Safely out of the rain, she propped up his legs on her backpack, and then the two sat back and studied him. Ziva was hesitant to check the bandages again but she did and was relieved to see the mud and fabric were still holding. She let her hand linger over his forehead a minute before pulling it away and saying, "We cannot throw a break! Every time we think we are doing okay, something happens!"

McGee furrowed his brow at her. _'Throw a break?'_ he thought. Then it occurred to him what she was trying to say. "Catch," he said.

"What?"

"Catch."

"Catch what?"

"Catch a break, actually. The saying is 'We can't CATCH a break.' You said 'throw a break.'"

Catch…throw…whatever! We need to get him to a doctor and every time we make progress, we experience a setback!"

"I know," he said, "but we aren't giving up just yet."

"Who said anything about giving up?"

"What I mean is we still have plenty of time to make it, but our first priority right now is trying to cool him down. If we can get his fever lowered, then he might be able to keep walking."

She nodded in agreement. "Okay, but how do we do that? He is already cold and wet from the weather."

Tim scratched his head. "I don't know."

Their looks of futility diminished when Tony's head began to lull slightly and he moaned.

"Look," she whispered.

Neither could mask the ray of hope they were feeling.

"Tony?" she said, encouraging him to awaken.

"What happened?" he moaned.

"You needed to rest."

He tried to look around but it was still too dark to see much. He caught glimpses of rock in the lightning, but it's what he didn't feel that made him furrow his brow, "It stopped raining?"

"No, we are in a small shelter. How are you feeling?"

"I don't remember resting. I remember… falling…I remember…hey, didn't you fall and pull me down with you?"

"Maybe. I think you slipped, though. How are you feeling?"

"Not so good."

"You are hot," she said.

McGee rolled his eyes the minute he heard what she'd said. Those were never good words to say to one very special agent Anthony DiNozzo. And Tony didn't disappoint, "If you keep saying that, I'm gonna start thinking you want something."

"If you think I am talking about the way you look, then you must be fine and YOU can keep walking."

"I'll be alright…just point me in the right direction."

She looked at Tim quizzically.

"Well, Tony, we have two more miles to go," he said. "Do you think you can make that?"

"With my eyes closed."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tim deadpanned.

*******************************************8

Gibbs kept to the high peaks and didn't stop until he'd put a good mile between him and Duncane. He made good time and according to his calculations, he would arrive at the pickup spot shortly after his team did. He rested briefly and looked up at the sky. It appeared the storm was weakening, or was it just wishful thinking. He drank some water from a stream, relieved himself, and started off again.

***********************8

"You're doing fine," McGee praised, holding onto Tony's jacket as they both inched down a steep hill on jagged rocks. Keeping him upright and on his feet were Tim's only concern, but the path wasn't exactly cooperating. It had narrowed, widened, narrowed again to a passage barely wide enough for one, and then abruptly ended at a cliff. Keeping the high road had its disadvantages, and this was one of them. They were faced with a choice: turn around and retrace their tracks until they could find a path down, or descend it. They chose to go down it since they could see the clearing in the far distance.

"Just a little further, Tony," Ziva yelled from ahead. It was actually a lot further, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She was taking each step carefully and relying on McGee's brain and her partner's sense of survival to keep them from plummeting down on top of her. It was slow going and when she looked back, she could barely see them now that the rain had picked up again and was pummeling the side of the cliff.

The descent was steep, but not impossible. The rocks were jutted just enough to function like steps, and there was very little mud to slip on. McGee literally had Tony situated in his lap as they inched down the incline. He had to give Tony credit; he was doing his best to do as much of the work himself. McGee would loosen his grip on Tony's jacket and belt just enough for him to find a rock and plant his foot, then McGee would shimmy down behind him, planting his feet on solid ground. Then they would repeat the action. It was definitely slow, but they were making it. That is until Tony slipped and almost took them both careening down the side. If it hadn't been for Tony shooting out his arm and grabbing hold of a boulder, all three would have been tangled in a heap at the bottom of the cliff.

However, the pain that shot through his body was unprecedented and he screamed out in agony, causing the forest to become silent, save for the steady din of the pouring rain.

"McGee!" Ziva yelled back. "Are you okay?"

Tim assessed his situation. He was splayed nearly vertical on the path with one arm under Tony's arm and the other one around his chest, holding onto him tightly. He could feel his friend's rapid breathing and fast heart rate just as if there had been no fabric separating his arm from the senior agent's skin.

"Tony?" he whispered, hoping he wouldn't move until he had a better idea how they were hanging onto the cliff.

But all Tony did was lean his head back onto Tim's shoulder.

"Tony? Are you okay?"

"I dunno…," he mumbled, not wanting to move anything. "I hurt…and my arm…it hurts like hell."

"That's because you used it to stop us from falling," he said, feeling Tony's NCIS cap against his chin. "Good job, by the way. You rest a second, while I figure a way down."

"McGee?" Ziva yelled again. "I am coming up there."

"No!" he yelled down to her. The last thing he needed was another person in his way. "Stay down there. We're okay! I just need to give him a rest and then I'll figure a way down. But don't come up. It's too narrow and one wrong move could send us all down."

She anxiously stared up at them in their rather precarious position debating whether or not to follow his instruction. She looked down to the bottom of the hill, noting the distance. Not too much further, but miles if you were falling. In the end, she realized that there wasn't much she could do, and so she reluctantly continued down the steep slope, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might pose an obstacle as well as an alert eye back up at her colleagues.

McGee kept his arm wrapped around Tony's chest. It was a good barometer; it let him know how Tony was doing. His heart rate would probably not slow down until he was unconscious, and his fever wasn't going to break until he got to a hospital and given antibiotics, but his breathing was definitely slowing down; unfortunately, even that wasn't close to normal. So far, Tony hadn't moved, and there was little reason for him to move since McGee was playing 'mattress' to Tony's splayed body. Tim let him lay a top him another minute while he contemplated his position.

When he felt Tony's muscles begin to relax, he softly asked, "How's the pain?"

"Mmmm…"

He couldn't pass out, not now, not so close to the end. "Tony? We gotta get moving. How's the shoulder?"

"M' okay, I think."

Tim took a deep breath, readying himself for his next maneuver. "Listen, do you think you can start down again?"

"What?" he mumbled, bringing himself back to life.

"Do you think you can manage the slope? We're almost there."

Tony blinked his eyes. He'd long lost the desire to keep the rain off his face, and blinking did absolutely no good, but it was a way to wake himself up from the fatigue that was always present. "I can manage," he forced out.

It took every ounce of strength, a lot of encouragement, and a few prayers, but McGee finally got him moving in the same manner as before. They took each step more slowly than before, moving in tandem down the steep path. Tim kept a strong hold on Tony's jacket, while sliding on his butt whenever the rocks permitted. Tony leaned heavily back against his friend, allowing him to guide his legs and keep him upright while all the while hugging his own arm closely to his chest. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally made it to flatter ground and to Ziva.

She took Tony from him and Tim felt a wave of relief wash over him, so much so that he plopped down into the wet mud and let the rain fall on him. He hadn't realized just how tense his own body had become, nor did he pay attention to the headache that was forming right behind his eyes.

"You okay, McGee?" she asked.

She thought she heard something from him, but it was inaudible in this weather. Besides, she was busy wrapping Tony's good arm around her shoulder in an effort to keep him moving. There was no more time for stopping and resting; they had to keep going. Grasping his wrist and offering as much help as she could, they continued slowly on down the trail. She knew she wouldn't be much help if his legs gave out, but at the moment, she was keeping him upright, steady, and moving forward, and that's all she could ask for. Glancing backwards over her shoulder, she yelled, "McGee! Are you coming?"

He looked up and barely saw the two figures in the distance. He felt like he'd left every ounce of energy back on the cliff, and he was unsure if he had anything left. But as he watched Tony trudge along with the help of Ziva, he realized that if Tony could do it with a bullet wound, a fever, and deep gashes from a mountain lion, then so could he. He pushed up off the ground and started after them.

He reached them just as the path began to widen. He sidled up beside Tony, sandwiching him in between them, and took some of the weight off Ziva, for which she was visibly grateful for. In the flashes of lightning, they felt they could see the clearing up ahead, but it was still a good distance away.

"Can we rest?" Tony asked.

"We are almost there," Ziva answered, ignoring his question.

But McGee knew that when Tony asked to rest, it was because he had pushed himself to the point where he couldn't continue. And sure enough, he felt the unsteady balance of a man whose knees were about to buckle.

"Over here," he said, pushing Tony towards the side of the path where there looked to be some grass. It may have been rain soaked and soggy, but at least it was softer than the bark, stones, and general debris he was accustomed to lying on.

They had almost made it when Tony's legs completely gave out and Ziva found herself going down with him. McGee made the unfortunate mistake of grabbing Tony's arm, and the ensuring scream unnerved him.

"I'm sorry, Tony!" Tim said, releasing it quickly, "I'm sorry!"

DiNozzo went down hard and rolled to his side, throwing a few choice curse words along the way. Ziva did her best to get him situated, but she soon discovered there was nothing she could do. Being out in the open was much different from being sheltered under the canopy of trees. The rain was coming down steadily and even though their NCIS caps were a Godsend, they were soaked and the water poured off the bill like a fast moving water fall. They waited anxiously for Tony to stop writhing. He eventually did, however, it was impossible not to notice the trembling of his hands.

"We have to find shelter," she said to McGee.

"I know. The problem is any kind of decent shelter is back that way, and we need to go the other way," he said, pointing towards the open meadow.

At the risk of pissing off Tony more than he already was, she reached for his shoulder and pulled back his clothes. Tim watched intently. She felt it; Tim saw it. "Damnit!" she said, pushing Tony onto his back, and ignoring his moans.

Tim knelt down and unzipped Tony's jacket, saying, "Sorry, but we need to take a look at your wound again," and helped Ziva pull back his shirt.

Sure enough, he'd started bleeding again. The rain was now clearing away the mud and exposing the wound. It looked bad, and this would explain why Tony suddenly needed to stop. The makeshift fabric bandage was no longer holding anything in place.

"We have to get this stopped," she said.

Tim leaned back and thought. He looked from the path to his friend, to Ziva, and then back to the path. His mind was racing at all the scenarios as he played them out one at a time. They had about an hour before they were going to be picked up, and by the looks of it, they still had another mile or so to go. They couldn't stay here in the elements, and Tony's fever was causing delirium, a condition almost impossible to control. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that Tony most likely wasn't going to be walking anymore on his own.

"McGee!"

He snapped out of his thoughts and focused on Ziva and her ministrations.

"Hold this," she said, handing him part of the fabric that had been used to stanch the flow of blood earlier.

He did as he was told and helped her slide the cloth underneath her partner and wrap it back around his shoulder. He tried to pay attention to how the bleeding was being stopped, but at this point, with the rain coming down and them being out in the open, there didn't seem to be much point in doing anything unless they could figure a way to move Tony. And then the answer popped into his head.

"I've got an idea," he said, and he let go of Tony's jacket. "I'll be right back."

"What? Wait! Where are you going?"

But he didn't answer. He had already started jogging back into the forest.

"Sometimes, Tony," she said to her partner not knowing if he was listening or not, "McGee can be as frustrating as you. It must be a man thing." She finished tying off the fabric and pulled his shirt and jacket back over his shoulder. She was chilled to the bone, beyond soaked, and worried. But the worst part was not doing anything. She waited anxiously for McGee to return, but there was no sign of him. She trusted him, of course, but she also wanted to know why he had gone back into the woods. Besides, alone in the mountains was never a good thing. And alone and out in the open with an injured man was even worse. She worriedly watched Tony. Every breath was labored, and every muscle in his body trembled. Pangs of sympathy overwhelmed her, and to take her mind off her partner, she thought about Gibbs. Where was he? Did he evade Duncane?

Tony mumbled something, pulling her back to reality. She didn't understand his words and wondered if he was aware he was even speaking. She touched his arm and was reminded of his fever as the heat emanated from his body. She took his shaking hand and soothed, "You are going to be all right. We do not have much further to walk and then we will be picked up and you will be taken straight to a hospital where you will get the care you need."

"I dunno…" he mumbled. "I can't…go on."

Startled by his revelation, she admonished him, "Nonsense! You are Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. You always make it," she added with a smile, although it was lost in the downpour. She changed her position so she could better protect him from the rain and pointlessly adjusted his jacket. Her efforts were futile as nothing was going to make the wait any more bearable. Realizing that she'd done everything humanly possible for him, she sat down next to him and cradled his head in her lap, shielding his face as much as possible from the elements. Quietly, she began talking, "Well, Tony, it looks like it is just you and me right now. I think the rain is letting up a little. That is good news. It should be sunrise soon, too, although I am not sure how much sun we will see this morning, but the helicopter will be able to fly if it clears up. Soon, you will be on your way to rest and relaxation."

He again mumbled something incoherent.

She wanted to ask him to repeat it, but instead, she simply said, "That's just the fever talking." She rubbed his neck and smiled down at him, but neither seemed to have much of an affect. "I do not know what you are saying, but McGee will be back soon and when he gets here, I will shoot him for making us wait like this. Would you like that?"

He gave no response this time.

She lost her smile and continued, "You know, I bet this fever is from your fight with that big cat. In Israel, we have leopards. We actually call them Arabian leopards. They are about the same size as your mountain lion, but they have a different coat. Sadly, they are almost extinct in my country." She looked back into the forest, hoping McGee would appear. Continuing, she said, "Yes, I do think your fever is from that cat, but do you want to know what I find to be really strange?"

She waited for a reply, but none came. "I know I shot that cat, as did McGee and Gibbs, but we could not find any trace of it. It must have run off into the woods. I wish we did not have to do that, but it was either him or us, and if he got hold of one of us in that small cave, I am afraid that would not have been good."

She looked down at her partner, but his head was lulled towards her so he was difficult to see. At least the rain wasn't pummeling his face anymore. She continued to gently rub his neck, "I also think that we do not have to worry about Terrence Duncane anymore; at least not before we get off this mountain. I suspect he will want some sort of revenge for his brother's death, but it will not be too difficult to keep track of him. I am curious as to who the other two men are. I bet they are family. Or maybe old prison mates."

She saw something move in the distance. Not sure if it was man or beast, she reached for her gun. "Stay still, Tony," she whispered. "I think I see someone coming." She slid his head off her lap and crouched low, gun in hand. They were far enough out in the open that anyone looking could easily spot them in the bright flashes of lightning. She thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

Another flash allowed her to see that there were two men approaching. Then she heard McGee's voice, "Ziva? It's me and Gibbs!"

She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard that. As they approached, she demanded, "Where did you go, McGee!" It was less a question than a chastisement. Then she quickly added, "Good to see you, Gibbs."

Ignoring her comment, Gibbs knelt down next to Tony and asked, "How is he?"

"He is burning up with fever and I cannot seem to stop the bleeding. He has lost a lot of blood, Gibbs, which is why he is so weak. And he's delirious. He keeps talking but not making any sense." Turning her attention to McGee, she asked, "What is that?"

Tim threw down two thick tree limbs and pulled out his knife. He picked up one limb and began sheering off the tiny branches. "We can't carry him," he said, "and I think he's pretty much done walking, so we're going to have to pull him along. I'm making a litter."

She nodded skeptically, "Okay."

Gibbs touched Tony's shoulder, feeling for the first time the extent of his fever. Thinking better of waking him, he simply patted it gently and moved away to help his team fasten the makeshift bed.

Ziva asked, "Where did you leave Duncane?"

"Heading towards the other ridge. It won't take long for him to realize we doubled back, so we can't miss our pickup."

Cradling Tony's head again, Ziva said softly, "Did you hear that, Tony? We cannot miss our ride this time, so you need to conserve your strength." She watched them construct the object. After Tim had sliced off the smaller limbs and branches, he whittled down one end of each stick, making it smooth. Then both he and Gibbs took off their jackets, turned them inside out while leaving the sleeves on the inside, and then zippered them together. Tim took one pole and slid it through the sleeve and Gibbs did the same with the other pole. It was perfect..., if they were transporting a child; not so great for a full sized adult male.

"Ziver," Gibbs said, motioning with his fingers to give him her jacket. She shimmied out of the wet fabric and watched McGee thread it through the poles. They all must have realized at the exact same moment that they were going to need Tony's jacket. Staring down at him, they also realized that it wasn't going to be so easy to get to it.

Gibbs unzipped it and pushed it over his good shoulder, but the minute Ziva pulled his arm back so they could pull the sleeve off, he opened his eyes, angry-like.

"Whaa'd?" he moaned in pain.

"We need your jacket, and…" Gibbs answered, "this is going to hurt." Completely ignoring his cries, he stripped Tony of his jacket, leaving him groaning in agony and gasping for breath.

Ziva tried to comfort him, but the respite of earlier was gone and he was in pain, more than she'd seen him.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony spat, coughing up sputum and trying to wrap his head around what was happening when he couldn't see anything through the rain and darkness.

"We're making a litter so you don't have to walk."

"I can walk…" he said, trying to get up, but there was no strength left in him and he dropped his head back down, landing softly in his partner's lap.

"It is okay, Tony," she soothed. "We do not expect you to do any more. You have done enough already."

She felt him relax. She felt his shoulders drop down and his head further press against her leg. The litter was almost complete, then it would be a matter of getting him into it. That, she did not look forward to. She continued to shield his face from the rain and watched them work.

"It's ready," Tim declared.

"Now all we have to do is get him in it," she said.

That process wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it would be. He didn't like it, but he rolled when they rolled him over to slide the litter under him and he rolled back over onto it. He was even able to adjust his position so that he was mostly between the poles and nestled inside the jackets.

"Tony?" Gibbs said, kneeling down next to him. "You've got about a mile of bumpy road ahead. Just grip the sides and hang on. Okay?"

Tony nodded, "Yeah…"

He patted his shoulder and nodded at McGee, who reached back and lifted both poles, beginning to cover the last stretch of terrain.

It was slow going at first. The trail wasn't nearly as even as it looked, and it took McGee fifty or sixty yards to get into a rhythm. At least there were no rocks and boulders he had to finagle around, but there were ruts, deceptively deep puddles, and general debris to traverse.

Ziva went ahead and removed branches, sticks, and loose rocks from the deer path while Gibbs stayed in the rear, keeping one eye on Tony and the other on the trail behind them. He had shared the path so long with wild animals that he didn't dare let his guard down. If sufficiently motivated, a bear or a mountain lion could easily run them down out here in the open. He just prayed nothing was sufficiently motivated. On his glances at Tony, it was easy to see all the abrasions to his arms, torso and thighs that the cat had left behind now that he was without a jacket, but not so easy to determine if the bullet wound was bleeding again. It was also easier to see how pale he had become. Tony always sported a healthy tan, but not so much now. His skin had that pasty sheen to it, a sign that he'd lost too much blood. He had to give him credit, though; he was trying his best to manage the pain which was evident across his face.

McGee had been pulling the litter for what seemed like an hour. In reality, it had only been about fifteen minutes. The going was slow, really slow, but given the nature of the job he was doing, he wasn't doing too poorly dragging his partner over a moderately flat surface that was chocked-full with obstacles. He eventually worked his steps into a rhythm and he was beginning to think that they were moving along relatively well until he accidentally dragged Tony through a deep puddle. The muddy water had been hiding a protruding rock. When the tip of it sliced into Tony's back, he yelled, arched his back, cursed like there was no tomorrow, and shifted his weight. The sudden movement caused Tim to lose his grip on the poles and Tony found himself squarely on the boulder.

"AHHHHHRGHHH!" Tony yelled, trying unsuccessfully to move himself off the rock that was gouging into his back.

Gibbs grabbed Tony by the shirt and dragged him onto the grass.

"I'm sorry, Tony!" Tim said, jerking the litter off the stone.

Gibbs didn't let Tony go until the pain subsided. That was partly due to the fact that Tony had a hold of his forearms and partly due to his own concern. His agent needed a doctor and he needed one now. He knelt down beside him, letting him rest in the soft grass while he listened to his breathing and squinted his eyes up at the rain.

They couldn't afford to stop for too long. He'd give him another minute and then they'd have to move.

After a three minute breather, they set off again, only this time Gibbs was pulling the litter, McGee was removing debris and Ziva was keeping a watchful eye on the path behind her for hungry predators, but really she was watching her partner. As with everything Gibbs did, he seemed to have fewer problems than his predecessor. He moved slowly, yet methodically. He moved off the trail and onto the grass and even though that made the litter more difficult to drag, it was easier on Tony. After fifteen minutes, he pulled to a stop and lowered the poles.

"We've got about another half mile to go, Boss," McGee said, making his way back.

"I know," he said, turning back and looking behind him. He kneeled down beside Tony and laid a hand on his chest, feeling his breathing. It seemed to have steadied some since the rock incident. At this point, he didn't want to be dragging a corpse, so periodically checking Tony's vitals was going to have to be factored into the time.

When they set off again, Tim and Ziva were both pulling the litter and Gibbs was behind keeping a watchful eye on his agent. Looking up ahead, they weren't too far from the pickup point. For the first time, Gibbs allowed himself to believe that they were going to make it off this damn mountain, and DiNozzo was going to get the help he needed. That was of course only the case if the chopper arrived on time and Duncane and his men didn't show up.

Duncane...Fuzz…his men…

Those thoughts lingered. The three goons had been making good time, and with Terrance in the lead and setting the pace, they would have long been at the ridge, and have had plenty of time to determine no one was coming. The rain would make it difficult, but not impossible, to track someone, and with new found vengeance coursing through his blood, Duncane wouldn't accept that outcome. He wanted revenge. So, what would he do when he realized the federal agents hadn't made their way to the first ridge and they weren't waiting to be picked up? What would a guy like Terrence Duncane do?

The answer slammed into his head as clearly and as vividly as the blueprints to a new boat. He knew exactly what Duncane would do. The goon would double time it to the only other place where a chopper could land. And he would know exactly the quickest path to follow, and he wouldn't take any rest breaks. All this didn't bode well for them. He glanced at his watch, less than an hour before pickup. They should be fine; Duncane might try to double time it here, but he had two less than motivated men with him who no doubt didn't share his passion for revenge. They would certainly slow him down.

Gibbs stopped when McGee and Ziva stopped. They set down their poles, exhausted from the exertion. "We're here, Boss."

He looked around at the clearing. It was a perfect spot to land a helicopter. The field was flat and vast, and there was a clear view of the sky in every direction, so seeing a helicopter would be easy. The wind was picking up across the flat landscape and the rain seemed to be dying down.

"McGee," he simply said.

Tim pulled out his phone and checked it. "No signal here, Boss." He began waiving it around and walking out into the open more. "Got one!"

Ziva yelled, "Call the Ranger's Station and tell them to come now!"

Tim dialed and then could be heard talking. He came hurrying back and said, "They're on their way. It's a good time too because there's a lull in the storm and they'll be able to land without a lot of wind shear, according to Ranger Sparks."

Gibbs turned around, looking at the perimeter of the field. Trees surrounded it. His brain switched back to Duncane. Knowing the area like he did, and if he wanted to, he might just be able to make it here. Suddenly, he didn't feel so confident anymore. He reached down and began moving Tony off the litter, confusing his team.

"Boss? What are you doing?"

"We're moving to the other side of this field. Give me a hand with him."

Still perplexed, Tim slung his pack over his shoulder and lifted Tony, ignoring his moans of agony. He managed to get him to stand, but he leaned heavily into him.

"Ziva, take care of the litter," Gibbs said.

She slid off the jackets and bundled them into a ball. Then, javelin style, she threw the poles into the woods.

"What's wrong, Boss?"

"We need to get to the far side of this field," he said, taking Tony from Tim and beginning the final leg of their journey.

She knew better than to ask why, but she was perplexed. She noticed that he kept to the deer trail, which was narrow and muddy, trying to avoid the tall grasses that lined both sides. They looked awkward walking together. Tony was barely able to put one foot in front of the other, let alone do it on an angle.

Gibbs' right arm was wrapped around Tony's waist while his left hand clasped Tony's wrist, which was draped over his shoulder. He was taking the bulk of his agent's weight. It was evident to him that Tony was helping as much as he could, which turned out to be not much at all. He pushed and pulled him forward, realizing that Tony was using all his strength just to remain conscious. McGee was following behind, staying inside the trail and helping with Tony when he looked a little too unsteady.

Tony was relying on his human crutch for support and mobility. He couldn't decide which was worse, being dragged in the litter or being propped up and forced to walk. Either way, he had no idea how he was staying awake. He also knew Gibbs well enough to know that he knew something that the others didn't. There was no other explanation for his behavior. And suddenly a thought occurred to him. It didn't stay with him long, but long enough for him to understand the man's persistence. Fighting to formulate his thoughts, which at best were erratic and stunted, he mumbled, "You think… Duncane… his men…will come here…, don't you?"

Gibbs admired his agent's acuity; but after all, that's why he hired him in the first place. He was quick and resourceful. If they didn't make it across the field and to some cover, and if Duncane were to make an appearance, it wouldn't bode well for any of them, but especially Tony.

"I think you need to keep walking."

That was confirmation enough for him. It was also okay by him. He didn't have a lot of excess strength to pull upon, and he was worried that he wasn't going to make it much further when he found himself being handed off to McGee. It was easier leaning on Gibbs because he was shorter. McGee was taller and stretched him out more, putting pressure on his arm, which he hugged closely to his chest. But one thing was easier with McGee: walking. He was better able to match Tim's stride.

Ziva had barely caught Tony's comment, and she wasn't quite sure what she'd heard, but it didn't take long for her to put it together. Was it possible that Duncane could make it from that other ridge to here before the helicopter showed up? She knew enough about vengeance to know anything was possible, and that's when she realized exactly what kind of predicament they had landed in. And she found herself looking over her shoulder at the slowly receding tree line, not for hungry predators, but for vengeful brothers.

Tim's adrenaline had kicked in once Gibbs had confirmed the Duncane dilemma and so his energy was a bit more than it had been. Tony was barely keeping up with him and it was evident he was getting annoyed at being pulled along. To avoid any confrontation, Tim said, "You're doing good, Tony. Just a few more feet to go."

"You're lying."

"Be quiet," Tim groused back. "If Gibbs thinks Duncane can get here, he most likely will, and I don't want to be out in the open when that happens. We've got another hundred yards, and you're heavy."

Tony heard the strain in McGee's voice and decided it was best to let it go. He tried to do more of his own walking, forcing each leg forward. Every so often, a wave of nausea washed over him, and he fought it, but it was a losing battle. With every step he took, he lost more blood, and the adrenaline that had once given him strength had long since dissipated. His sight grew fuzzy and the light seemed to dim. Like watching a tunnel light gradually shrink away, his vision slowly faded and then everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"How is he?"

"Out cold," McGee answered.

Ziva pulled her hand away from his neck and said, "His fever is higher and the wound has re-opened. I cannot get the bleeding to stop."

McGee worriedly looked down at the blood soaked shirt and thought out loud, "How much more can he lose?"

Gibbs looked up at the sky, wondering if the storm was ever going to break. The blackness had given way to dawn, but it was still raining. A person, never trained in tracking, could easily follow the path they had plowed. With the daylight hours on top of them, someone like Duncane would notice it from the precipice a mile back. But they still had time on their side.

"It's 6:20, Boss. Ted said the helicopter would be here by 6:45. You still think those men could be behind us?"

Gibbs glared, he not only thought it, he felt it. "How much ammo you have left?"

Tim checked his gun, "A clip and a half."

"A clip for me," Ziva said.

Gibbs stared at Tony, pale and lifeless, the gashes and scratches from the mountain lion evident on his forearms and legs. He thought about Fuzz Duncane, and he thought about his brother, Terrence, a man with nothing to lose. If he had nothing to lose, then he wouldn't care how he made the six mile trek; he wouldn't stick to the high ground when he knew he could make faster progress using other routes. And knowing the mountain like he did, Gibbs could be sure that he knew the fastest way to get from there to here, especially when safety wasn't an issue.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly rose and he looked across the field. "Stay here."

McGee recognized that tone. He pulled his phone out and searched for a signal. He found one and saw that he had five missed calls, all from the Ranger's Stations. He pressed call back and immediately got connected with Ranger Sparks.

"Ted! We're at the clearing on the west ridge. How much longer before the helicopter is here."

"I've been trying to reach you! Our regular pilot got cut off by the flooding river. We've had to send out another pilot, Gus; he's in route. How's Agent DiNozzo?"

"Not good. Listen, Ted, radio your pilot and tell him that he may encounter some fire from the fugitive's brother."

"Fire? You mean GUNFIRE?"

"Yes, I mean gunfire. He may be coming in hot."

"Umm, Gus isn't the best pilot on a good day. Can you hold on a sec?"

McGee could hear him radio the pilot. From what he could glean from the one sided conversation, it sounded like Gus wasn't too happy about the newly learned information. In fact, it sounded like Ted had to do some fancy talking just to keep Gus flying. He returned to the phone, "Agent McGee? He's coming, but he doesn't like it none."

"Neither do we!"

"I think I hear something," Ziva said, cocking her ear towards the open field. "It's a helicopter," she exclaimed, smiling. "He is coming in from the east," she pointed. She could hear the rotors, but couldn't see anything through the clouds. She bent down and patted Tony's shoulder, "You see, Tony, we will have you out of here and to a hospital in no time."

She got no response, but she didn't expect one either.

"We hear him, but don't see him yet," McGee told Ted.

"Yeah, visibility isn't too good," Ted replied.

Then, as if the clouds parted, a helicopter appeared and was making its slow descent onto the open field. "He's here!" McGee shouted into the phone, then clicked off. He grabbed DiNozzo somewhat unmercifully and hoisted him into a standing position. "We gotta go, Tony!"

The unconscious man was soon very much awake and dismayed. Confusion was everywhere, but something told him to just let the others guide him.

Ziva grabbed the backpacks and the three made their way towards the waiting bird. Once there, she tossed everything inside and glanced at the pilot. He had on headphones and the requisite flak jacket, but that's where the resemblance to a pilot ended. He sported long curly hair and scraggly facial fur that enveloped the lower part of his jaw, and his left cheek puffed out abnormally far. If the chew wasn't bad enough, a half smoked cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Come on!" he shouted, anxious to get back in the air. "Get in!" His aged face and gravelly voice no doubt the result of years of being a 'two-pack a day'r'.

She helped McGee get Tony inside, turning her nose up at the smell of the unkempt interior. After he was in and laid flat, she yelled, "We have to wait for our boss, Special Agent Gibbs!"

The pilot craned his neck around and said, "What!"

"We have to wait for our boss—"

"-Like hell we do!"

Using every ounce of strength to ignore him, she continued, "He went to slow down the bad guys."

"We don't have time for that—"

"—We are NOT leaving without him!"

The pilot whipped back around in his seat and scanned the area. The rain had subsided some, so it was slightly easier to see through the windshield, but the clouds continued to linger and it wasn't nearly as bright as he'd like it to have been.

Suddenly they saw movement up ahead. Gibbs was running towards them, and from a distance they saw Duncane closing in and firing his rifle. Gibbs went down and time stopped for McGee and Ziva. Ziva was just about ready to jump off the helicopter and go to his aid when she saw him pop up and continue running towards them.

Gus punched some controls and the helicopter jerked into the air. The nose dipped and then rose up into the clouds. When Ziva realized that the pilot had no intention of picking up her boss and that he was in fact attempting to fly to safety, she pulled her weapon and smacked it hard against his helmet. Screaming into his ear, she said, "TURN THIS HELICOPTER AROUND NOW AND PICK UP THAT MAN, OR I WILL PERSONALLY PUT A BULLET IN OUR BRAIN, TOSS YOU OUT THE DOOR AND FLY THIS THING MYSELF!"

Gus had been around long enough to know the real deal, and this was the real deal. They had talked about her back at the station and the other rangers seemed to be in awe of the Mossad officer, but he had no use for strong headed women. In fact, he felt that most women should be kept barefoot and pregnant so as not to cause any trouble. Like she was now. But she was holding the gun and he didn't want to test whether or not she'd use it. He swung the helicopter around and scanned the field for their man.

"He's over there!" she yelled.

Sure enough, he saw him crouched down near a thick stand of tall grass. He flew in low and fast, overshot his mark and pulled the chopper to an abrupt halt in between Gibbs and Duncane. Gibbs ran towards the open door and towards McGee, who was shouting, "C'MON, C'MON, C'MON!"

Ziva watched Duncane out the pilot's window. He had shielded his eyes from the wind and debris that the propellers were kicking up, but seemed to recover quickly when he realized the bird was trying to save the federal agent. He raised his rifle and aimed. The bullet shattered through the glass next to the pilot and Gus screamed expletives to the point she thought he had been hit.

She rapid fired her pistol out the busted glass and watched as Duncane dropped to the ground, disappearing in the tall grass. She felt the bird rock and knew that Gibbs had jumped on board.

"Are you hit?" she yelled at the pilot.

"I don't know!" he spat back.

"GO!" She snapped, then turned and fired again out the broken window.

Gus moved the cyclic stick and she felt the soft lift of the chopper as it left the ground, banking sharply to the right. She fell backwards when he gunned it, thrusting the helicopter forward and into the clouds above and away from the fugitive intent on blowing them out of the sky.

Then she heard the distinct sound of an explosion and felt the shock wave as it swept through the helicopter. At first, she thought they'd been hit and any second the bird was going to spiral out of control, but it seemed to stay steady. That's when she looked out the window and saw the debris settling near where Duncane had been hiding in the grass. A glance at her cohorts indicated that they were quite pleased with what they'd done. And that's when she remembered the grenade.

"You didn't..." she said, wide-eyed.

"Oh, but we did," McGee answered, smiling.

She rolled over and found herself next to Tony. Sensing Gibbs looking at her with a more than quizzical stare, she offered a succinct explanation. "You have your way of getting things done, and I have mine. Our pilot just needed a little persuasion is all."

"I saw," he said.

"I see you found Duncane."

"He was waiting for us."

McGee asked, "What about his friends?"

"No sign of them."

Looking down on Tony, he quickly lost whatever euphoria he had been feeling from the grenade and said, "Boss, his fever is higher."

Gibbs leaned forward and got the pilot's attention. Talking over the sound of the rotors, he yelled, "We need to get him to a hospital."

"Yeah? Well, I might need one too!"

Gibbs repeated, "We need to get him to a hospital."

"They'll have an ambulance waiting when we land!" he yelled back.

"I don't think you heard me!" Gibbs toned. "We need to go there now!"

"I don't have authorization to land anywhere but the landing field!"

Ziva scooted up behind him and rested her Sig on his shoulder, "Now you do."

Gus pursed his lips, cursing the moment he agreed to take the job. The money wasn't even all that great, and then to have to take orders from Feds! Reluctantly, he resigned himself to doing what they wanted and reached forward, turned some knobs and flicked up some controls. The helicopter banked slowly to the left and he set a course for the nearest hospital.

******************************8

Gus landed off center on the helipad and cut the engine. Emergency personnel were waiting and hurried towards them with a gurney in tow. Tony was pulled from the chopper, deposited on the stretcher, and rushed away. Ziva, McGee and Gibbs followed.

Just before disappearing through the hospital door, Ziva turned and saw Gus staring at her. She threw him a smile and finger waved, and watched until he turned away in annoyance.

A member of the medical team approached Gibbs. "What happened to him? We heard he'd been shot, but that's more than a bullet wound."

"He was shot in the shoulder about the same time he was mauled by a mountain lion. That was yesterday around twenty-one hundred. I removed the bullet, but he's lost a lot of blood."

"A lot," Ziva echoed. "I could not get it to stop."

"We have blood on the way. Anything else you can tell me? Like the cat, was it rabid?"

They shrugged. There was no way of telling given the fleeting moments whenever they encountered it.

"Okay. Depending on how clean the bullet came out, he may need surgery, so we're prepping him for it just in case. If there's no need for surgery, we'll clean him up, stitch him up and fill him up. We'll be keeping him over night until his blood count is back to normal."

"Sound like an oil change," McGee whispered to Ziva.

Gibbs thanked the doctor and watched until the door closed behind him. Then he looked at his team: drenched, filthy, tired, hungry and spent. He too was feeling the effects of the last 48 hours. "C'mon. Let's go."

"What about Tony?" Ziva asked. "Someone should stay with him?"

"Suit yourself," he said while walking away. "I'm getting a room."

She looked at McGee.

"Don't look at me. I'm with him. I'm exhausted, and Tony's being well cared for now."

"But…" she found herself saying to no one. She couldn't blame them, really. She was exhausted too, but she worried about her partner. She knew he was in good hands and it wasn't likely he was going to wake up, and even if he did, he wasn't the type to need someone next to him. She realized her staying was going to be more for her than him. In the end, she opted to leave with her colleagues. The idea of a hot shower, clean clothes and a soft bed was just too enticing to give up. "Hey! Wait for me!"

***************************8

The guilt of leaving her partner alone lasting as long as it took to find a motel. With nothing to do, she read the signs in the lobby and half listened to McGee talking to the clerk, something about it being too early to check in. Gibbs was in one of his mute moods, probably angry that tonight he wouldn't be able to work on his boat. That would make three nights in a row that he hadn't been home, all because of Fuzz Duncane. The good news was Fuzz Duncane wouldn't be killing any more petty officers; the bad news was McGee wasn't having much luck securing a couple of rooms.

Gibbs stepped forward and flashed his badge. Ziva couldn't hear what he said, but a minute later, they were being handed two credit card sized access keys, along with a receipt. He handed one key to her and walked away, assumingly towards his room.

She followed.

Gibbs came to his room first and pushed in the card. He held the door open while looking back at McGee, "You coming?"

Tim quickly nodded and followed, but he turned back and looked at Ziva and said, "Your room must be the next one down."

Sure enough, her room was the next room down. She slipped in her card key, heard the "click" of a bolt dropping, and pushed the door open. Two double beds awaited her. Her relief was almost palatable as she tossed the cardkey on the dresser and went for the soft mattress. She stopped short, looking down at her clothes. Sleeping would have to wait as she decided she was going to take a nice long hot shower.

The shower wasn't nearly as long as she imagined due to the trickle of water that flowed from the shower head. She managed to wash her hair by emptying the small bottles of complimentary shampoo and rinse, as well as remove the dirt and grime that had caked on her hands and face. She took one towel and wrapped it around her hair and the other towel around her body.

She got almost to the bed when she noticed her clothes lying on the floor. They were wet, muddy, and bloody. She couldn't put them back on, but she had nothing to wear. One of the signs in the lobby said there was a laundry room located on the second floor near the elevators. They were on the second floor and not too far from the elevators. She would just sneak down to the room, toss her clothes in, and sneak back and nobody would notice her.

She refastened the towel around her body and head, comfortable that they weren't going to fall off. Then she gathered her clothes and card key, looked both ways down the hallway, and slipped out the door. She easily found the laundry room and was very pleased that in a few minutes her clothes would be washing and she would be making her way back to her room. Instead, when she walked in, she saw McGee standing next to the washer, wearing nothing but a towel and holding his clothes. He was looking at Gibbs, who was in front of the washer, in nothing but a towel. For a moment, it looked like a Mexican standoff.

"Ah Geez," Gibbs said. He snatched the clothes from McGee and threw them in the washer. Then he reached out and grabbed Ziva's clothes and threw them in. He dropped his quarters in the hole, pushed the lever, waited for the water to begin to fill up, and then let the lid slam shut. He slipped past them, saying, "I'm going to bed."

She and McGee looked at each other, assessing exactly how awkward the moment was. Without speaking, McGee stiffly walked by her and down the hall. She let the scene register a moment, and then she quickly returned to her own room.

***************************8

Tony opened his eyes and immediately knew he was in a hospital. "Thank God," he whispered to no one. He pushed his head back into the pillow, relishing its comfort. It seemed like he'd spent weeks lying on rocks, sticks and debris, not to mention in mud and water puddles.

Rain. The ever present rain and thunder and lightning that never seemed to go away. He looked at his hands, thinking he would see the water-soaked fingers he'd grown so accustomed to feeling, but the color was back and they were dry. His hair and face were dry, too.

His shoulder. The almost constant pain he felt was practically non-existent now. His shoulder was numb, bandaged and immobile. His entire arm was wrapped securely in a sling and resting comfortably on his chest.

Lastly, the gashes. The stinging pain that never seemed to go away; the rubbing fabric against the wounds, the blood. From what he could see, the claw marks and teeth wounds that had shredded his forearms and thighs were wrapped nicely in white gauze. They too were numb, or at least they no longer stung.

The door opened and he craned his head to see who was coming in.

Ziva, McGee and Gibbs appeared, followed by Ranger Sparks and Ranger Fiel. Ziva smiled down on him and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I was…yesterday? What day is it?"

"It's Friday morning. You've been out for nearly 24 hours."

McGee asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Sure I do," he answered. "Right up to the point when I don't."

Tim nodded and said, "That's what we thought. We spent a lot of time carrying you."

Tony tried to remember, but it was all so jumbled in his head that he wasn't sure of the sequence. He scratched his head and asked, "Fuzz Duncane…we got him, right?"

"Yeah, we got him."

"And…there was a...big cat?"

Sparks came alert and said, "We found him, in case you were wondering. Agent McGee told me what happened with the cat jumping into your shelter. He got about a hundred yards and collapsed dead. He was the one we'd been looking for, too. He was old and was attacking easy prey…dogs, children, joggers. He'd already kilt two dogs and a jogger and almost got himself a young child, so he won't be missed none."

Tony furrowed his brow like there was more to ask, but he wasn't sure what it was.

Gibbs answered, "They picked up Terrence Duncane."

"Terrence?"

"Fuzz' brother," McGee said. "The other two men were his cousins. They were found dead, drowned actually, from a flash flood. They must have found Fuzz where we left him, in that small cave. Unfortunately, in their anger, they didn't bother putting him back to protect him from the wild animals. When we went back to get him, he wasn't all there, if you know what I mean."

Tony scrunched his nose; he knew.

"How's Gus," Ziva inquired innocently.

Ranger Fiel grinned. "He ain't doing too good, which is fine by us. Says he ain't never flying for us again, which is also fine by us. At least now we don't have to put up with his high falutin, mightier-than-thou attitude. What exactly happened out there?"

The door opened again and the doctor was startled to see so many people in the room. He was old with balding grey hair and a pair of bug-eyed, wire rimmed thick glasses. Even though it was obvious he had interrupted something, he had rounds to make and a schedule to keep, so he got right to the point. Reading from the chart in hand, he began, "Mr. DiNozzo, I just want to say that you are recovering well from your injuries. On your legs alone we put in 75 stitches; another 36 on your arms. You didn't require surgery for the bullet wound, but we cleaned it up and stitched it up properly, and filled you up with three pints of blood. The antibiotics must be doing the job because your temperature is back to normal. As long as you take it easy until your blood supply builds back up, I don't see any reason why you can't go home."

Tony nodded slightly; his lids heavy. Ziva answered for him, "Thank you, Doctor. We will make sure he takes it easy."

Tony closed his eyes, thinking he was just going to rest them for a second.

The doctor noted his patient's sudden slip into slumber and explained, "He's lost a lot of blood and we gave him what we could, but he's still short. As a result, he will feel tired, drained, and at times disoriented. He shouldn't drive or handle a gun or do anything that could be disastrous in the event he's overcome by fatigue."

"Understood," McGee said.

Flipping through the chart in his hand again, the doctor asked, "Did somebody tell me that he's had the pneumonic plague?"

"Yes," Gibbs answered. "I did."

The doctor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "That boy's got one hell of a medical history. You'll need to keep an eye on him, get him up and walking. He'll complain because his shoulder, those gashes and all the stitches will hurt like hell when the pain medication wears off, but everything will heal nicely if you follow my instructions."

"Will do," McGee said.

The doctor left and with him so did Sparks and Fiel. Ranger Sparks quipped something about the plague, and then they were gone. Gibbs was anxious to get back home as were the others, but Tony was fast asleep. "What should we do?" Ziva asked.

"Let's get outta here," Gibbs answered.

"We're just going to leave him here?" McGee asked.

"No. You're gonna stay here and get him dressed while Ziva and I bring the car around."

McGee never knew how to argue with his boss, he just knew he didn't want to be the one handling Tony.

Ziva smiled, half wishing she could stay and watch the show, but she knew better. She winked at McGee, "Good luck waking him and getting his clothes on."

Tim couldn't think fast enough to form any coherent sentences, but he did catch the last few words his boss said just before the door closed, "Of course, you could always call a nurse to help you."

Alone with an unconscious Tony, he found merit in his boss' comment. He looked around until he saw the nurses call button and pressed the big red one in the center. When no one came after five minutes, he left in search of anyone who could help him dress a man that would no doubt be in a foul mood when awoken.

*****************************8

The drive back was relatively quiet except for a short outburst by Tony. He was annoyed that his clothes smelled, were covered in dirt and blood, and were ripped. He was told that they'd be home soon and he would be able to change into whatever he wanted, but it still didn't answer the question as to how their clothes were so clean and his so filthy, but a furtive glance between Ziva and McGee told him there was a story in there somewhere.

"Do you remember anything?" McGee asked, changing the subject.

Tony leaned his head back and thought. "I remember coming up on Duncane by the stream. And I remember the mountain lion jumping on me, but it all gets blurry after that."

"So," Ziva phished, "You do not remember the cave?"

"Or the cliff?" Tim asked.

"Or the fall?"

"Or the—"

"—I DO remember these things; I just don't remember the order in which they occurred. I do, however, remember Ziva telling me I was hot."

"I was referring to your temperature!" she said through gritted teeth.

"And what's with the Kit Kat Bar in your pack, McUn-healthy?

"What's with the hand grenade?" McGee shot back.

Tony glared at his comrade's quick comeback, silently applauding it. Ignoring the smile from Ziva and McGee's raised brows, he turned his attention towards his boss. "And Gibbs," Tony added. The car got quiet as they waited for what exactly he had to say to one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "Did you actually cut me open in the middle of nowhere with a knife?"

"Yep."

Tony lulled his head back as a bout of fatigue suddenly swept over him. "…How could you?" he mumbled.

"It was easy," he answered. Gibbs pulled the bullet from his pocket and was ready to toss it into the backseat when he glanced at his agent in the rear-view mirror. His head had lulled backwards and his lids were already closed. He had apparently drifted into oblivion, again. Assured of his next comment, he explained softly, "It's like this, DiNozzo: You keep complaining to anyone who will listen that you can't get any sympathy from having the plague. So, I thought I'd give you something to talk about."

Ziva chuckled, as did McGee. Unfortunately, DiNozzo was out cold and didn't hear a word.

The corners of Gibbs' mouth turned up; his version of a smile and contentment. With his team in tack, the bad guys caught, and Tony on the mend, he was feeling particularly good. The only thing better right now would be working on his boat. And that was easily remedied; he pushed the accelerator to the floor.

~~Fini

 **Author's Note: I really appreciate all the comments that have been posted. It takes me forever to finish a story because I keep editing it and editing it and editing it... I posted this one somewhat prematurely as I've caught several typos, but I don't think they detracted from the story too much. I do like MW and the DiNozzo character he created on NCIS so all my stories center around him. I'm working on one that includes Bishop (a first for me) and I'm excited to finish it. Again, thanks to all who read this and comment! ~~Jasmine**


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